消費指南

Begin Time: 10:05pm

Reasons Why I Hate This Blog:

It's not my blog anyway. Not really. It's just another one of my dad's blogs that he uses to make money and post advertisements and expand his web of connections. It's just that I'm the person that is forced into the upkeeping of this particular blog and it's my name on the cover.
Everything posted here is posted unwillingly, written under duress, under the threat of punishments of confisticated electronics and beatings and hours-long time-outs.
I have nothing to write about-
-except for the events in my life. Which is a problem in and of itself because:
I fucking hate strangers
I fucking hate strangers knowing me or wanting to know me when they have no fucking place in my life in the first place. Fucking stalkers, the lot of them.
There's no benefit to this arrangement at all. Any meager income this blog would earn would amount to maybe several NT a month, or even a year and that probably can't even buy breakfast for a day. I don't even get critique or comments or anything to know that the articles I spend hours typing even get read beyond the "hit" numbers, which are useless because just clicking and X-ing out the tab without reading the article will also make a hit.
Pixnet, as far as I know, has mainly Chinese users and a mainly Chinese audience. I doubt most can even comprehend much of what I write. If they can, they sure don't show it.
I'm practically illiterate in Chinese too, so any Chinese comments are run through the notoriously untrustworthy Google Translate. Basically, I can't read the Chinese comments. I write in English for a reason you know.
So. Why the fuck should I be forced to put my private life on display for the unappreciative or English-challenged masses that can't seem to speak an English word beyond "good"?
But I digress. Let's move on to another reason why I hate this blog: the quality and quantity of it.
You see, I actually do like writing. Like most writers, I also believe in quality writing: meaning, I don't enjoy posting pure crap like "Today I ate a hamburger. It tasted funny. I got sick later. Ugh." Any piece of writing I post will be double checked for grammar, have proper attention paid to syntax and grammar, have plenty of detail, and be as interesting as I can possbly make it. Usually. This can take half an hour to half a day.
My dad believes in quantity. His articles, he says, can be typed up in five to ten minutes. I'm not sure whether he honestly writes his own articles, his articles are short, or if they're just listed facts or summaries or something else.
Unfortunately, whatever the case, he also says that writing articles is easy, so I should be able to write several articles a day. Please keep in mind the average length of my written articles (typically can go up to or over a thousand words), as well as my insistence on quality writing.
Okay, now I'll confess that I'm also not a very fast writer. I like to sit and think too much. And also, research. All facts in anything I write must be correct or deliberately wrong.
Either way, what this sums up to is: I can't get two or three articles off in a day. Not without sacrificing quality, which, no matter how much I dislike this blog, I absolutely refuse to do.
Another reason: this blog has no focus at all. It's just whatever I felt like posting, or rather, whatever I could think of posting at the time. This blog is a junkyard, a garbage bin, and there's nothing worse than a story with a plot like a sewer.
The lack of focus, or of quality, is a stain on my pride as an aspiring writer. I fucking hate it.
And this is a kid's blog. I started this when I was...what, twelve? Eleven? And the blog reflects that and I can't change that without deleting everything or starting a new account.
I'm not allowed to delete everything by the way. Apparently, this blog is a record or something of my life and can be helpful when applying to colleges...or whatever it is my dad says.
Honestly, all this blog has ever made me learn is that I really fucking hate blogging. This blog is why I hate Facebook, hate Blogspot, hate Wordpress, hate those fucking social networks where people want to know you and hate those fucking websites that remind me too much of this one.
It's too bad I know I could have learned to love blogging if only for the writing, if it weren't for this fucking blog and its baggage.
It's too bad I also know I won't be allowed to quit using this blog until I move out and am no longer financially dependent on my parents.
.

Fuck all of you lousy readers. For your lack of understanding. For your lack of support.

Fuck this shitty website. For the fact that its English option is still Chinese. For the fact that it would be good for someone, but that someone is not me.

And most of all, fuck you Dad, for your insistence on this. For the fact that you claim that this is for my own benefit when really, I can't see it. For the fact that you can punish me when I fail a responsibility, a promise that I never remember I had, and for the fact that I have no power to call you out on those windows you promised to fix, those lights up to my room you promised to replace, and all those other little promises you've made and broken to me. For the fact that I have to be perfect, whereas you can not, and for your double standards, your inability to see the other side of the mirror. For that, fuck you.

(For the fact that I can't string words together aloud as eloquently as you can, so I have never and will never win an argument with you. For the fact that I have to type it in an article you will never read to say it. Fuck you.)