Once Upon A Time...

...There was this girl.


She liked to write. In fact, not only did she like writing, she virtually lived by it. She needed it to survive. And then, after a few months, she felt this sour, bitter taste far in the back of her throat and thought "Oh - maybe I need to tone it down. Maybe people don't want to read about my daily meanderings, my Élucubrations."


So she waited until she found the right topic to write about. Day in and day out, she held back until the right phrase presented itself. She found everything boring and un-post-worthy. Once in a while, she jotted down words and sentences, figured out ways to make them sound the way she wanted them to, and inevitably postponed publishing them to her blog. She went to see the Beastie Boys in Montreal (yyyyessss!!!) and generally had a great summer. Her man turned thirty and it was not the party she thought it would be, but it was great anyway. She continued knitting the baby blankie for her friends S&M (I assure you...) in Montréal.


Oh this gets tiring, writing at the third person. So for the record, I am alas fed up of waiting, Throng of Readers. I have grown used to your comments and approval, and I found it was lacking in the past posts. So I stopped writing. But I craved the writing so much! The writing is such a joy! To post once in a while and to - maybe - get a response, some sort of acknowledgement! It filled me with joy! So I am back to the writing. How many times have I said this? Many. I admit. Okay. I have not been regular in posting. Please forgive and forget, for this is a tentative new beginning.


How have you been? Well, I hope. Any of you have kids while I was gone? Anyone retire or move to a distant land? Anyone get married, divorced, found new yummy love? Good. Keep me posted. I crave your news. My last question to you was not answered, you bunch of worthless losers, except by my one and only Tortuga. So for the record, the Chicken crossed the road to get to the other side, to slip his card to the hot business guy with the pinstripe suit and the tie and the briefcase. This particular chicken, as my father-in-law would say (he likes to use the word particular) according to Tortuga, did not have a ring on his left hand ringfinger, or wherever it is that chickens place their rings. So she said, and I quote: "Go chicken go." Voilà. And now that the survey results have been communicated, I may move on.

I'm off to play Project Gotham Racing 4 on my boyfriend's XBox 360 while he's gone. So long, Suckers. See you soon, I sincerely hope.

Best wishes, and I'll keep you posted. This time.

Mademoiselle xox