The Underdoge

I wish I could write a post about bricks, or make up some super amazing metaphor about bricks or take a picture of a brick, but all I've been able to come up with is this:

So I am going to be completely honest and say that I disappoint myself when I do my blog. I know it shouldn't be that way, but it is, and I think it's because I am comparing it to everyone else's. My background is of clean, white hexagons. That is me. I'm not a poet, I'm not indie, and I haven't really loved anyone, I'm just a comedian. An OCD one. I could put my background as a nice field or an antique radio or a girl covering her eyes, but I won't because I'm a boy and plus none of those things matter to me.

I know my blog isn't the greatest. It's because I'm a procrastinator.
I know that's an excuse, but I'm more than willing to use it, because it's a true excuse.

I love looking at YOUR blog! It's so good!
And I might comment on it if I like it a lot (and FYI I like all of them a lot)
But I will probably comment on the blogs that don't have any comments, because I root for the underdoge.
(Also don't think I comment out of pity, because I don't. I will search and search and search until I find something I truly like about it and that will be my comment.)

My mom always says:

And so I do. Sometimes I don't, but sometimes I do.
You may not know what I'm saying, and neither do I.
So look at this and imagine me saying "WOWE! GO U UNDERdoGe!" and be satisfied by what I am.