When writing Tidbits on my phone, you get Theagus?

I write.
I dont write alot.
I wish I would write more.
While intoxicated, I record this like a stereotypical scribe of the medieval crusade.
Recently i ponder what it is that makes me write. Is it a desire to express? Well yes, that is it. Nothing that i've written means nothing to me. Mind you, its all still drivel in my eyes.
Tonight, i was told that my drivel is entertaining. Like seinfeld.
Seinfeld, for those who dont know, is a show about nothing. It make nothing into entire episodic subjects.
I wont deny it. I have written about trivial things. Very trivial things. And, conveniently enough, its entertaining to those who have read it. Ironic, considering i'm venting out my emotions in them, maybe hoping to be taken seriously.
But i'm still not sure why it is that my writings are so entertaining. Nothing is special about them. Nothing is original. They are jokes similar to other writers, which i will grant, some people may not have been exposed to, but they aren't entirely entertaining.
Mind you, i have not read that much.
However, my definition of entertainment is laughing. I dont try to make people laugh. Sure, there's an occasional bit that is funny, but that is purely unintentional. It's the first thing that comes to my mind at the time.
Why is it that i'm so entertaining?
My two regulars have said the same thing. My blogs are entertaining to read, they are amused by them.

Another Person has agreed that my blogs are entertaining. We even had a rather profound conversation about them, where she unloaded her opinion on the subjects themselves.
It was good. Twas refreshing. A little surprising since we've really only just started talking. Anyway, i still dont get it. The entertainment is there, but not screaming out to me. I suppose i wont get it until someone tricks me into reading my own writing, without telling me that it's mine until i'm done and said "this is awesome".

Through the years, I have developed my writing habits, and slowly they have degraded through my lack of imagination, forethought, motivation and general knowledge of interesting words to make me sound smart. Its an interesting tidbit that someone can conclude after reading an interesting novel, where the author will sound intelligent at one stage, then be bogan like Trev from Punchy.
Nothing comes to interest, short of love lifes and an odd desire to analyse a situation as a professional. Only the other day, i saw a small painting in a shop and wondered what it was that caused this piece to become a sold display.
Easy on the eyes? Not exactly. It tricks the eyes into displaying a variety of concepts in a monocolour world from something similar to japanese calligraphy, however only succeeded in me through sections and not a whole, where one half displayed the sillouette of a man, while the rest remained a skid mark on a roadside.
Obviously this comes under the ideal of conceptual art. In my understanding, Conceptual art is something simple that can display the thousand stories a picture is meant to hold, and not the traditional singular tale.
I am not an art critic. Yet, this is what i come up with.
Why is it that i can't write what i want? There has been, and should still be, nothing stopping me.
This is entertainment? Then let it be and show what the masses say. Come forth, people of the world and bring your honesty, your harsh tones and your calloused minds of your practiced gift.
Tell me what makes you so entertained.

For those who are having trouble reading this due to poor grammar and a curiosity of what the heck a Theagus is, I apologise. I originally wrote this on my phone, my usual outlet. And I have no idea as to what a Theagus is. I'm personally placing it under the catagory of "Ancient Greek names"