The Issue With This Blog

I read other blogs than my own.  Infrequently, but I do.
I read Retro Rack, which is a vintage clothing blog by a heavily bosomed author whom I completely adore.
I read World Of Ledzebra, which is a blog by one of my best friends, describing her slightly mental life with her dog Mungo and cat Nelson. And, ofc, the lesser humans.
I also read Katie's blogs, of which she has made many and posts to few.

You see, in this blog I normally fritter away word counts on things like who I'm seeing, what I had for dinner, what petty little issue that is pissing me off that day, like how Blogger has changed it's format and my ex has deleted his Facebook and oh woe is me.
You know, attention seeking crap.
That is essentially all it is.
And then I look at these other blogs and think "Fucking hell, I'm shallower than a puddle of spit."

All of the crap I spout about on this blog is pretty inconsequential.  Like the several blogs about what a complete jackass Harry was.  Describing my antics with booze.  What I try to do is document moments in my life to almost create a diary and I am very steadily realising that I am incredibly shallow, very attention seeking and don't have even the smallest bit of perspective on anything.

Which is a bit shit.

I'm going to try and decide whether or not this matters.

I think two years ago, or even last year, it would really, really have mattered to me.
The attention seeking thing still does.
However, the bit where I'm shallow, out of touch with stuff like global politics and big issues like feminism in the workplace and gay marriage rights and who to actually vote for in the upcoming local elections, it just doesn't bother me that much.
See, the me of two years ago and even last year felt she was of above average intelligence and could do whatever the hell she wanted with her life. The me of two years ago had it all sorted out in her head and was going to teach English for a few years while she wrote her first novel, sell it, make millions, marry a nice man and then give up working to procreate and collect a large wardrobe of vintage clothes and also make a difference.  Do some charity work or something, foster some extra kids, stuff like that.
But I don't even know if I'm going to uni now.
And now I'm getting a degree in Sociology, what the hell am I going to do with it?
I don't know if I want to teach.
I feel like I should be doing something really academic, or at least I though I felt like I should be doing something really academic.  But all that's been buggered over, because I'm lazy and I'm failing and I might not even get into uni, to be honest.

I'm considering ditching every last bit of even trying to be academic now.
I know I'm smart, but I have literally no motivation to do this any more.
I am so seriously considering saying fuck this shit to everything college based, working and saving for a few years and getting a loan from a bank to start a café.
It would have books along one wall and paintings along another and two floors so I could sell some clothes and some more paintings and maybe odd furniture too.
It would be somewhere quiet and cute, with that purple flower growing up the side that I don't even remember the name of now.
Wysteria or something like that.
Purple and nice smelling.

Sod it, I'm reading the style section out of the Times.