Blogging for someone else's sake.

I really hate writing for the sake of writing. It not only feels useless in itself, but it makes me feel like a horrible writer. I need to roll a cigarette...

Moments later:

One thing Europe has provided me with: if not the ability to roll cigarrettes well, at least the resolve to attempt it instead of buying packs of pre-rolled. Another thing is the self-righteous feeling I get whenever I specify "pre-rolled" instead of "rolled".

What am I doing here? I started this blog with the intention of focusing on the answer to that question, and now I realize that I'm doing the same things here as I did in California. I sit in my kitchen with great frequency, and wittily banter with one to five of the nine people currently living in my four-bedroom. A breakdown: officially, I live with Ruth, Laura, and Lea, from Austria, Spain, and Germany respectively. Lea is in New York until the end of December, and my friend Lauren from the FU-BEST program is subletting until then. A friend of a friend of Laura, Carmen, is living here until she finds an apartment. Four other people, Jon, Andy, Bryony, and Claire are living in our spare room until they find a flat. They are from England, Ireland, Singapore, and England respectively. We recently realized that none of us are actually from Germany, and that Ruth is the only one who has spoken German since birth.

This is an abrupt place to end, but I can't write this shit anymore.