What's my age again?

You know, looking back over the last few posts, I've realized that the only thing that seperates my humble bloggadelphia from the average sixteen-year-old's is better spelling and a few big words.

Why can't I be more intellectual? More literary? More mature? I don't know.

I think part of the reason is that we talk all the time, with family and friends, about every stupid thing that crosses our minds. Some bloggers turn to the computer when they feel inspired, when they feel like they have something important to say. They create compelling, profound prose. They actually sound like college students and graduates.

I'm different, because when I blog, it's more out of loneliness than profundity. I don't have enough common conversation. Take the last post, for example. What a waste of electrons. If I had someone to share my useless opinions with on a regular basis, I promise, dear and gentle reader, I'd write something worth reading once in a while.

In fact, do yourself a favor and go read someone else's blog. Manders has a great list of blogs. May I recommend "A Cold and Broken Hallelujah", I've enjoyed that one recently. Or Sarah Hatter's site. I've been reading her voraciously for three days. It's almost like making a new friend, without the risk.

The depressing part is that I've learned more about Sarah than I have about most of the people I speak to on a daily basis.

Something's wrong.