I Can't Commit to a Blog

And yet here I am. . .

I have a hard time finishing creative projects. I buy the little journals, and insist on carry one everywhere, just in case I'm inspired. Within six months the journal will have:

• 1 poorly written half poem


• 17 remnants of torn out pages for phone numbers, grocery lists blahblahblahblah


• At least two pieces of used gum stuck in the pages.

Creativity for the win.

But now that I'm doing something legitimately cool (living in France), I've been getting alot of heat to write a blog. I'm looking at you, Tull.

Also, I'm living in France. It's awesome and weird and culturally mindblowing and all those things that life abroad is supposed to be. It's also a lot more and a lot less. And this is where a blog becomes a nice tool for a gal to have in her pocket. For the moments that are more and less.

This is a blog for France, but I'm also leaving it open for general farting around. I like to fart.