Tag: boring

Blank Mind: A Christmas Tribute

riceandsoysauce4Leave a comment

I sat down to write this blog, but absolutely nothing came to mind. Instead, I procrastinated until the last minute… and still had nothing to write about. I tried brainstorming ideas, but everything felt too cliché or uninteresting.

So, I guess this post isn’t exceptionally exciting, but it’s all I’ve got right now.

That said, I’m really excited for Christmas. I love Christmas music—it’s so nostalgic. If I could listen to it all year, I would. (And honestly, sometimes I do.)

Well, now this post has somehow turned into being about Christmas, but I’ve run out of things to say about that, too. Hopefully, I’ll have better luck next week.

pc – google

DO NOT READ THIS BLOG

progstenLeave a comment

Do not read the following blog. It has no purpose, no story, no message, absolutely nothing.

So, please click the back arrow in the top left of your screen to exit and return to your previous website, or if you wish to close the tab completely, please click the X on the top of your current tab.

If you are still reading this, you haven’t followed my warnings or instructions at all, so I will say it again. 

This blog contains nothing. 

It has no fun story for you to enjoy, no gossip about how I am feeling, and no updates on anything going on in the world. It has nothing. 

So save yourself the time and click off of this website and go do something productive with your time. You can do this by closing this tab and going to any other website, app, or social media. 

This is your last chance to close off this tab before you waste any more time while reading this post.

I’ll wait………

What a stubborn person you are. I continue to read even after I told you so nicely that the blog has no purpose. 

Im not sure why you keep on reading this yet you do. maybe its because your stubborn or maybe your just curious. regardelless its pointless. 

I hope you have enjoyed wasting your time reading nothing.  

Mundane Steps

frog3Leave a comment

hh

Trekking in the early morning, on a cracked road.

My feet do not step, but drag.

They are busy, hurrying to and from the mundane.

Isolated they step and dart through the mid-morning traffic.

And the people they talk, laugh, and cry.

Where they go, they do not care.

People do not realize what a mundane system it is.

You drive to a destination and get out.

For what?

To stare, to think, to buy, and to wonder

what is the point of it all?