How to begin? Perhaps I'll just pick up where I left off, but I don't even remember where or when that was. So I'll plough on, I suppose. It's now February of 2oo6. Wow. At the end of this month, it will have been 2 years since I've lived in France. I started out in the suburbs and made my way into the city, like some sort of reverse Tiburon to San Francisco migration. Now I have an apartment in the 11th, not far from Bastille and just minutes away from Republique. I think I've been in this apartment for almost half a year. I live by myself, in a small house within the courtyard of an older building on Boulevard Voltaire. Before me, it was rented by a psychotherapist named Annick Picard, and his name still adorns my doorbell. I haven't received any visits from anyone looking for the good doctor, but I'll be ready if they come. Ready with my own psycho therapy. Whatever that means.

I guess Anick's name is important because it's still there, outside my door and even on an engraved plaque outside of the building. Haven't done anything about it yet. One of the many little reminders that I still consider my move temporary, despite the duration of my stay. 2 years, with a job and an apartment and a bank account and a passport. Don't really know what the plan is. I work for this company, (after your pity laugh know that most of the original text was chopped up leaving nothing but cheesy one-liners and my voice) an inexplicable project which is both baby and beast, depending on the day. What is it? a collection of texts, grammar exercises audio files and vocabulary sent daily by e-mail which uses intelligent software to route you to lessons and exercises which fit your levels and needs. All the lessons are based on a fictional perfume company and feature reoccuring characters. Anyway, it's not that important. You really do have to see it to understand and appreciate it. I've been developing the English content for the program since I arrived here. It's a good gig for sure, and certainly indulges my creativity when I'm feeling inspired, but it's robbed my of whatever shred of motivation I might have had to do other sorts of writing.

Hence the total lack of radio communication.

There is a team of two English speakers working with me at the Glish. I should probably come up with some sort of handle for the job before it starts coming up in google searches, as we ourselves do periodically to see if our site is being referenced correctly. I think that a post last year definitely cost me some embarrasment as I caricatured my bosses just weeks into my stint. Whatever. I like my job. I lose myself in it. I write more every day than I ever did before. What I write borders on silly to mildly humoruous. To my non-English audience it's probably just confusing. Beyond the ridiculous idioms that I sprinkle liberally into my writing, I've come to realize that I now write texts knowing that I'll be asking questions about afterwards. I've been forced to learn doublespeak and legalese for the task when all I want to do is record funny accents into a microphone. There's no end in sight, unfortunately. Our most advanced users are always nipping at our heels, much like Jack Frost at your teat. Or nose.

A brilliant segue to the winter. Why is it so cold? This winter has sucked. I blame everything bad that's happened on this winter. I've done little except eat, work and download in that order. I wish I could say that I've been making good on whatever ambitions I had when I came here and whatever promises I have made to myself and others, but the reality is that things in France are becoming very routine.

What have I been doing?

Missing a lot of birthdays, that's for sure. Losing touch with a lot of friends. I'm trying to dig myself out of a big hole, so we'll so how this latest attempt at blogging goes. I'm guessing it will get easier once I fill in the gaps and get out everything that I've been meaning to say.
I realize that in its heydey, this blog was never really personal: I think I spent much more time dissecting and parodying the comic aspects of wherever I was at the time, with a little self-indulgent rambling to boot. There was a healthy does of trying to make people laugh as well. I think living in South Korea made writing 10 times easier because daily life was so absurdly funny. There wasn't much to think about besides teaching the children and enjoying yourself. I'm finding France to be a little more complicated and decidedly less funny. There's probably a little bit of an age factor thrown in as well as I've been doing this for 2 years with no end in sight and I'm not sure if it's what I want and for how long I want it. I don't know what I'm missing Stateside either, and there are questions and doubts. I know I want to travel and write, but I'm not sure how long I want to live in France, and I'm aware of the time passing me by in the meantime. Trying to reconnect with people and figure out my next step. Feeling a bit out of touch. Drop me a line if you feel like it. So much for the state of the Arnon address.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: From now on this blog will no longer contain my unique brand of self-effacing witticisms. I will now review American Idol from monday through thursday and attack bleeding heart liberals with hardhitting right-wing propaganda fridays and saturdays. Sunday is god's day.

See you later I hope