So, I've got this shiny new blog, right? And it's pretty and pink and makes me happy every time I open the page, right? And I am a witty, interesting girl with regular reels of commentary on my daily observations, right?

SO HOW COME I'VE GOT NOTHING TO SAY?

I think I'm kind of washed out. I think I have a bit of shell shock, really, the way soliders do when they return from war. I sometimes think, if I open my mouth, what will come out of it? Will I recognize my own voice? Will my words betray me?

Okay, let's see. My apartment is cluttered and needs a thorough cleaning. It needs a thorough re-organization, if you want to know the truth. I wonder if I have it in me to bother? Probably not. But I can at least clean it. That much will be a relief.

Then let's what else. Hmmmm. I have serious insomnia. Four nights running. That was interesting, wasn't it? Almost as interesting as having to clean my apartment? We're on a roll here, kids.

I have a cute American coming to visit next weekend. He comes complete with mockable accent, though also giant, incredibly efficient brain, so he is forgiven. I have a cute Romanian med student coming to visit tomorrow, though her accent only comes out when she's tired, and even then, I wonder what she's going on about since everyone knows she's not speaking a real language anyway. Merely gibberish.

Hmmm. All my friends are smarter than me, I think. No wonder I have such a complex.

Speaking of complexes, I did the Myers-Briggs test and came back INFP. That means that I'm a really good, albeit reserved citizen with cute neurosis.

And I forgot to pay my rent. You see? I am a bad tenant.

I am wearing flannel PJs. They are too hot under my duvet.

If I get any more interesting or eloquent, someone's going to nominate me for a Pulitzer. I'll go work on my acceptance speech now.

Good night.