Not the subject I planned to cover.

Most people seem to be searching for profound meaning in life. Consequentially, many people spend chunks of their lives deconstructing and reading about the most dull parts of culture. It seems worthwhile to a point. Clearly, using the resources all around us to draw poignant conclusions about how civilization is pottering along has it's uses. But this seems to have eventually led to occupations like; the art of studying Lindsay Lohan's body language, and trying to guess what flavour baby food Jenifer Anniston swallowed for breakfast. This is beginning to make me wonder what I really have to offer you fine people.

Perhaps I am just a twisted, hateful young woman; a preacher recently told me that I am a presumptuous sinner, and perhaps she was right. I certainly have a lot of anger floating about in my mind-tank. But so often I ask myself what the world would appreciate me for more: Creating something beautiful and original, or transforming myself into a glittering orange creature of the night. As you are reading this (and if you have got this far, I really appreciate your patience) you are probably considering how tired the counter-celebrity-culture argument is. My point is; I know too much about Cheryl Cole. I know a story about her feet. And as Simon Amstell put it, she is nothing but 'a racist thug.' Where does this leave us? So preoccupied with the easiest form of escapism we can get our hands on, that we elevate certain people and stare curiously at them until they get too old or boring to hold our attention. I think civilization has taken a step back.

Soon I will stop moaning about the state of society and actually write something constructive.