Sitting on a cornflake....

Actually, I'm doing no such thing, but Mr Collins happens to be playing that song.

Ecce me.

The vital question arises: what am I doing here?

Not to say I'm not the blogging type. Au contraire, mes amies. I've been blogging quite happily for two and a half years now. Blogging has given me more friends than I could have asked for. But, with a certain degree of stubbornness, I refused to get a Blogger, even when most of those friends abandoned our former cyberhaunts in favor of whatever it is Blogger has to offer... that certain je ne sais quois, I suppose.

Yes, I am using French to make you hate me. The unfortunate act is, I tend to think in a blurry jumble of English, French, Latin, and the occasional Japanese idiom. What can't be cured must be endured.

The vital problem arises: what am I doing here?

Hopefully, learning to talk.

Yes. I know how to talk. Unfortunately, the two criticisms I get the most are 1) that I'm too secretive and 2) that I can't keep a secret. And yes, both of those have been known to come from the same person (who was a deeply confused individual, but there you have it.)

Evidently, something needs to be done, so I would like to exercise my ability to speak well. After all, isn't that what rhetoric is all about?


  1. You know it's going to be difficult for les bete Americans to read your blog? (that's a year of high-school French talking, so please correct me) You're going to force me to start learning another language. Shoot.

  2. Oooh, another blog to read.

  3. Ah, yes...... so many words, so little to say....

  4. Hey thank for following my blog!
    How are things?

  5. There was a young lady from ride,
    Ate too many apples and died.
    The apples fermented inside the lamented,
    Made cider inside her inside.


    Fuzzy Wuzzy was a chemist,
    Fuzzy Wuzzy is no more.
    What he thought was H20
    Was H2SO4.