My Blog is Boring

Not that I didn't know this before, but I was reminded of this again early morning today (waking up at 5 on a Saturday morning? something is seriously wrong somewhere). I was browsing the blogosphere and came across two very interesting blogs, both of the baring-the-soul genre. I generally don't spend much time reading these stupid confessions of stupid twenty-somethings about what they did in some stupid party with their stupid friends. But these blogs were different, specially the first one which is called The scab that swung. I don't know about "swinging" but the blog definitely scores high on how-tos of scratching scabs. This girl who calls herself TeeGee (is that her initials? Tara, Tanya, Trisha or may be Tamara, who knows she might even be from Russia or be a Nabokov fan!) is having some serious boyfriend issues. I spent quite some time trawling through her blog archives in the wee hours of today morning, and using some hints that she had left here and there even did some cyber stalking (by which I mean innocent googling). The guy in question is some kind of an upstart in the Indian news television scene and has just launched a new channel in the eastern part of India. And if his real name has anything to do with the initial that the girl uses to address him, I think I know who he is. I hope she never reads this and if she ever does, doesn't sue me for stalking her blog!

Most of her posts, not surprisingly, are about trying to forget and not being able to, scratching the scabs which appear to have healed but apparently have not, uncertainties and mood swings that go with every serious love affair. Sometimes I think how predictable these things are. Be it the innocent shepherds and their melancholy love stories in Don Quixote or the obsessive quest to reach the bottom-most depths of human heart in Proust's Novel, they all are absolutely the same, at least in abstract terms. Not that I am comparing her to Proust or Cervantes, but honesty and courage for self-revelation even under an assumed name go quite far.

The second blog is equally interesting. It's called liquid sunshine and it is about heart break too, straddling some open space between Bridget Jones and Sylvia Plath. Don't miss her open letter to her mom. And I always thought mothers and daughters were best friends!

And yes my blog is boring, unlike these blogs, because there is hardly any me anywhere here, hardly any passion, any genuine feeling, just borrowed thoughts and ideas and used feelings. I can imagine how romantic and poetic it would be to scratch the scabs, but what if you don't have any scabs to begin with?

Be that what it is, I don't have any plans to popularise my blog by making it a confessional barf bag. It looks good as it is. Monday is a holiday so I should be able to read something substantial over the weekend and then I can write about it. I am already thinking of some more boring posts, such as, Kierkegaardian Motifs in Lars von Trier's Breaking the Waves or Menippean Strain in Dostoevsky as Discussed by Bakhtin or perhaps moving on to history and politics I can write about the comparative analysis of the views of Marx and Feuerbach on the Jewish Question or a comparative analysis of the anarchist philosophy of Proudhon, Herzen and Bakunin...phew! there is so much to write about. Why waste time searching for old scabs?