Wandering? I'll Show You Wandering.

I fucking do not understand. Please, explain to me why this poor little girl would submit her blog here. It's not even fair.

It's just...everything is presented so basely, so numb and uncomplicated, and readers are given the impression that she finds these ideas and opinions freshly inspiring...I feel sorry for her. This little fucking goblin makes me feel sorry for her because she has a lame blog about stale observations coupled with the audacity to imply she wants to be a writer and does so without a speck of pretension, and I have to ask: is this blog a joke?

There is no way a trilingual woman with an advanced degree in software engineering could think that something like this served as radical expository when it reminds me of exchanges with my junior high pen pal from Senegal, who was assigned to me in Social Studies and all of our letters were graded essays on "what I learned in class" and "things about my country" and all that bullshit. No one in class really cared; we were a bunch of little racist American brats that wanted to see pictures of bone-necklaced tribespeople riding giant hyenas or ripping roasted zebra meat from the bone. Then one time, between letters, while we were waiting for a picture of school life in Dakar, fucking Nancy Baumgarten asked our teacher if they had cameras in Africa. That, my friends, taught me two significant life-changing lies: I hate blazing ignorance and I am better than other people because of it.

This blog reminds me of that unwarranted superiority. Every word she writes elicits this reaction:

1. I judge her simplicity and unfairly blame it on Mauritania.
2. I remember that she is from Mauritius, not Mauritania, and they are two very different countries.
   
3. I am comforted by my lofty acceptance of our cultural differences.
4. I imagine people judging her for cultural differences.
5. I realize am better than other people. Because of the lofty acceptance.
6. I realize that acceptance is not the same thing as caring.
7. I feel guilty for my lack of emotional connection with the blog, even when she opens up.
8. I get angry, because that shit's not my fault. It's the fault of the wandering mind (change the title, it's horribly misleading) that never really wanders much farther than the tip of her own fingers.
9. I am such a fucking self-important douchebag for reacting this way.
   

So I feel superior to her as well as all of those hypothetical bullies that I created in my brain, and then I feel like a dick. Basically this blog made me think about me and not at all about the blogger.

Is that still the sign of a good blog? No. No it's not, I've decided.

She made me analyze myself being such a fucking simpleton that I wanted to just give her a piece of my brain to help with mental indigestion. HOW DOES THIS MAKE YOU FEEL? DO YOU FEEL ANYTHING? DO I FEEL ANYTHING? How can we relate as human beings when there are all these insipid fences everywhere that aren't even fun to climb over?








This is extremely frustrating. I hate you because you make me hate myself. And to the readers: I'm sorry you had to sit through this review.