The problem with blogging, besides the fact that it is not at all lucrative and that anonymous people regularly tell you that they hope you die because you dyed a gallon of milk pink, is that it can be a very solitary process. Spending every day in front of a computer in your pjs and a bathroom robe, decorated with the crumbs from the tortilla chips that constituted breakfast (Vogue‘s must-have accessory for writers), can make the most well-adjusted of us a little odd.
And if you aren’t that well-adjusted to begin with? Well, spending your days blogging can send you straight into tin-foil-hat territory, wherein you watch episodes of The Bachelor at slow speeds, looking for symbolism that will eventually be the foundation of your new religion. (Note: the tenants of this religion are still unclear to me, but it involves dry-humping and candles.)
I found this on