Rilee at her needle

(or was it her pen)

Two things: The Scarlet Letter and A question, and yet, for both, not one or six but many. I write because I like words. Lots and lots of letters and lots and lots of words. Somethings are embedded and alive and cannot breath until expressed.  Maybe that's why I talk a lot, or maybe that's why I think a lot, either way, with me a lot seems to be consensus for the happenings.

A blog (n) the perfect outlet for the self-absorbed. 

No, that can't be right. The million bajillion (not a real word) bloggers out in the world of bloggering (again, not a real word) can't be all that bad.

A blog (n)  a tool for remembrance. 

Hmm that's sounds nice. And so I begin. 

A beginning. Remembering a toast. January 1st 2008: "Here's to the year to change our lives". Well Matthew Miller, thus far you seem to be quite right. 

Now back to the Letter. It's a classic, right? Everyone had to read it in high school? Rilee, you must have had the wrong ticket or shown up on the platform late. And so for the first time, I opened to the first page and learned all about that Hester Prynne and her Scarlet Letter. One word: intense. For all the GAGs: you must understand the perfect fit. The book has swallowed me whole, revealing to its bait her own crimson and gold threaded token. Therefore, at times while reading from here to page 203, I will reference the thoughts scripted from a summer read. 

A question possessing no punctuation mark to end it's misery. It continues. Yes, much like a rolling waterwheel: it escaped the mill and rolls just to gather the mud and the gold coins along way (or Chris was it a roller coaster). Whatever the analogy, a question of progression and discovery (Christian, can we go "discovering"? I just won't be able to pay for the gas). A question that may never be answered for the sake to escape complacency. Complacency: fear #1 of 5 actual fears (I have 5 actual fears and 3 ridiculous fears-a reasonable number I'd say). 

...and that's it. The reason for this blog: remembrance, discovery, and the finded (also not a word) answers to the unanswerable question, though wishing to remain anonymous, reveling in the inevitable clarity awaiting in the forthwith passages.