Angst, Teens, and Perfect Blogging. Bonus points if you understand the reference! haha so corny

I enjoy good things: books that are written well, music that bursts into tiny fireworks, movies that make me laugh (or more often cry), food that smells as good as it looks as good as it tastes, people that drift about my memories, etc. A piece of writing, let's say a blog post, that rushes off the page, would fit in this category as well.

Which is why five years ago (timecheck?), I subscribed to a stranger's Xanga.

Sooo embarrassing. and creeper. But hear me out.

The Xanga was typical teenage angst...but bumped up to a diabolical "iwanttofuckingpissonthisshitcalled life" kind of mania. Its author alternated between angry rants about his trashy mother to little condescending games with the readers. Scroll down! He said, and after ten scrolls of white space, at the very bottom of the page was a few choice words for whatever sucker was stupid enough to do it. His layout was from kickgrass.whatever (net? com? I dunremember), and his vocabulary consisted mainly of four letter words bolded, capitalized, and repeated.

I thought all of it was totally badass.

It took me a while to subscribe. I remember sitting in front of the computer...thinking...sucking my thumb...tapping my feet...like this decision was life or death. When I finally clicked the button, I felt a sense of "this is it!" I thought that by subscribing to such a bold explosion of emotion and feeling and...really, bullshit, I could become more like the author and let my own inner headbasher out. Me and the author would become buddies: we would flip off babies and smoke pot behind his trailer and kick dirt at his mom.

A couple of weeks later, when I realized that he wasn't ever going to post anything else, when I myself had stopped posting to Xanga, I stopped going on the website altogether. I had nothing to say so strongly that an impressionable tween would stop, twiddle his thumbs, and anxiously subscribe. Even if I did, I didn't know how to write it.