Addiction

So, here I sit, waiting for inspiration to strike. I've only just started this blogger lark, and already it is sucking me in. I feel compelled to post something new today, but I haven't done anything remotely interesting, and so it's a bit difficult.
I haven't even read anything much in the papers, apart from the fact that Sandals have finally decided to lift their ban on gay couples.
Didn't do much last night either, except sit around and watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I cried again. I think I must be going through some kind of hormonal upheaval. It's very thought provoking though. Would you really want to lose the memory of people that you've loved, even if you end up loathing and despising them? I fell for - read 'became briefly, yet dangerously obsessed with' - someone at university who delivered to me by hand all the lessons I will ever need on How To Choose the Wrong Man. Now, I would love to erase his smug, overly dimpled face from every corner of my brain, but unfortunately, I rather value the bolshyness and inner strength the experience eventually left me with, so what can you do? Apart from plot his eventual downfall and dream that he will burn in hell for all eternity for every single one of his cowardly and vindictive crimes against women; and there are many. (Not that I'm bitter. Much.)
Anyway, it was ten years ago. I've almost moved on. The alternative was to turn into a caricature of stalker movie baddies, sitting in a darkened room filled with cobwebs and dust, and spanking new up-to-date computer and surveillance equipment, dispensing justice while muttering to myself constantly in manner of Gollum. Yesssss. I like that. Is it too late to change my mind?