Welcome to forever. Feel free to look around.

Hello mysterious anonymous bloglings. How are you tonight?
My name is Anna***, and there are a lot of things I don't know.
For example, I don't know who any of these other bloggers are. Really. Okay, so I kinda sorta know Damacus in a topsy turvy interwebz-related way, and he does appear to have spectacular hair, which is pleasing to me. But what if Damacus is actually some sort of cyborg in witty male youth form planning to consume my soul and take over the world. WHAT IF?!?!?!
One needs to consider these things.

Anyway. What? I'm sorry. It's almost 2am and I shouldn't be awake. I recently got back from a music festival in the middle of nowhere, where I spent most of my time talking to a man who looked distinctly like Gene Wilder (circa Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) but was wearing a skirt and suit jacket, dancing in the mud and having my tarot read by a man with bits of cotton sewn into his dreads. The fact that I was perpetually stoned probably didn't help, either.

But here are some other things I don't know:

- How to swing dance. This is a problem, as far as I can tell. Suppose, right, that one day you're walking down the street, and the Duke of York comes up to you and challenges you to a swing dancing battle, and you can't swing dance, and you make a fool of yourself - THAT is going to be embarrassing.
Now, okay, I know what you're thinking, meetings with the Duke of York don't usually happen in everyday life, but one day when you bump into him unexpectedly, you're going to wish you had those swing dancing lessons. AND DON'T YOU COME CRYING TO ME THEN.

- How to stop talking. I am a very bad blogger. I have a bunch of blogs that keep amassing full of rants about various unnecessary topics (see: why balloons are good, the benefits of men wearing glitter, my issues with improper use of grammar, my neurotic fear of fish and most sea creatures), and there should probably be a point when I just concede that no one actually wants to hear about any of these things and should JUST BACK AWAY FROM THE KEYBOARD. Case in point: I've been an arts/music student for the past year, and I turned up to one of my very first tutes to discuss "Saving Private Ryan". The tutor asked the class which scenes emphasised the use of "homosocial bonding" (this is a crap term that could easily be replaced with "thinly veiled homoeroticism" but they like to pretend that there is a technical way of saying it) (there is not, they just mashed words together, and I prefer the original way). Anyway. The point is, ten minutes later, I had explained to everyone how crap the film was for killing off all of the good actors, all for the purpose of saving Private Ryan, who was played by Matt Damon, who is a loser, just so they could promote their patriotic rubbish.
Everyone was staring at me.
It was awkward.
Don't follow my lead, please.

- Anything at all about political anything. I often get in arguments with my friend, who is a Young Liberal, about politics. I like to say I am left-wing. Which is all well and good, until someone asks you why you're left-wing and why such-and-such is so incorrect and why blah-blah-blah is wrong, and please support your theories on yadayada because I have this pie chart that clearly shows the increase of somethingorother under so-and-sos government and---
LOOK SHUT UP, I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR PIE CHART.
Also, I get distracted really easily. And "Young Liberal" reminds me of the show "The Young Ones" and "pie chart" just reminds me of "pie". Pie with or without inverted commas.
I'm not picky.
But I sure could go some English absurdist comedy and some baked goods right now, HOW ABOUT YOU????


Anyway, the point is.... Well, I'm not sure what the point is, but I apologise in advance for my ranting and raging.
Oh, and I also apologise for my unbridled bitterness and overuse of capital letters.
I'm really okay in real life...

Goodnight.

xx

*** Incidentally, my name isn't really Anna.**
** OR IS IT?!?!?!?!!*
* No. It is not.****
**** BUT IS IT REALLY?!?!??!