on having a blog, and writing in general.

You desperately want everyone to read it, and to tell you exactly what they think of it. At the same time, you dread that this will finally clinch the matter for them - you are stupid, and cliched, and have no original thoughts, or you would be if you weren't completely incoherent. Even worse is the thought that they couldn't care less about you and your stupid blog. reading it is a waste of time - it gives no amusement or enlightenment - you are a stupid college student with nothing to say, and should keep your mouth shut in the presence of your betters. After all, the blogs you read are written by experienced and interesting adults who actually have some authority and status in the world. It is presumptuous to think anyone (other than your long-suffering parents, and a handful of friends who are used to you shamelessly dumping manuscripts in their laps and begging for opinions) will bother to read this junk. But you do it any way. practice makes perfect, you say. If you can keep this up, in another twenty years, you might write something worth publishing. You haven't even managed to get anything published in any of the mediocre school rags yet, but you convince yourself that such an outlet is unworthy of your talents, anyway. If you have any talent. Lots of people are aspiring writers. Every last John/Jane Doe out there has a blog, nowadays. You are so behind the curve it isn't even funny. You blench at how many hackneyed phrases you've used just in the last paragraph. You wonder how embarrassed you will be on happening upon any of these writings twenty years from now. You give up. Until tomorrow.