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It's not Art, it's IKEA...

I just noticed that the difference between my posts so far and the usual scribblings in my little black books is that on here there seems to be a forced polishedness... The books are raw. I say I just noticed, but I've got a feeling it's been one of the factors that has made me shy away from writing this blog sort of thing for so long. It also seems entirely plausible for me to write little random bits of text rather than making myself write a full essay each time...I can also edit anything I do write ad infinitum...I could even edit my spelling and grammar until it appears that a poor man's wannabe Stephen Fry has written this, losing pretty much all of my Self in the process. Here I am, exposed...this is simply a new medium in which to expose myself...