I happened across Blogger.com on accident really. You know how it goes, surfing the net, you stop to read something, then find something else that peaks your interest...next thing you know, you're so far off from what you were originally looking for.
Why I created a blog? I haven't a clue. It's not that my life is so exciting that I think everyone would get a kick out of it. Just maybe that I like to write...anything. Even if it's meaningless, it gives me something to do. Or maybe, since I never had that "sacred" diary as a child that most little girls had, I feel the need to put my life on paper (or the internet as it may be.)
Whatever the reason, here I am. Blogging away when I should be working. And I really have no idea what this will actually turn out to be. But for the moment, it's fun. And what more is there to life than that anyway?
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tr.v. piqued, piqu·ing, piques
1. To cause to feel resentment or indignation.
2. To provoke; arouse: The portrait piqued her curiosity.
3. To pride (oneself): He piqued himself on his stylish attire.
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