Warning: this entry contains poor writing

Birds, once again the fodder for a joke on my 'blog.'

After spending so much time in the past several days studying books that claim to help one produce enthralling writing, I'm pretty certain that the following post does not fall into that category. It is not particularly humorous, unique, or suspenseful, nor is it particularly well organized or carefully edited. It probably contains a number of clichès or worn-out phrases that, were I a truly creative person that really cared about the quality of his writing, I could probably work out and improve. I might even forget to use the spellcheck function so conveniently provided by the proprietors of this website. Should you choose to keep reading, well, I think that's tremendous. You must be very patient, because I cannot possibly imagine that you could be obsessed with the subject matter I select. Still, let this introductory paragraph serve as a warning not to take any ideas from my 'blog' and supplant them upon yours, as I'm afraid mine sets quite a poor example of what good writing should be -- and of course because I would also call my lawyer-friend about it.

A quick glance at my Swiss-made Tissot wristwatch with Titanium clasp reminds me that I haven't updated this 'blog' for a week now. As all of you know, I'm usually not one to just let the exciting day-to-day activities that comprise my life crumble away like so much stale bread to the birds -- although I do think feeding the birds is a good idea. So in the interest of complete transparency -- and, as usual, my own edification -- I now offer you a brief 'roundup' of the various excitements I have experienced since my previous post:

Jan. 18: A windy storm named "Kiryl" blew across Germany, damaging the newly built Hauptbahnhof, but more tragically, cancelling my session at the Volkshochschule. I spent the day watching television and reading about how to become a better writer.

Jan. 19: The Volkshochschule reopened, and I scrambled to finish the homework I should have had completed for Thursday but hadn't, because I would have looked really stupid not having completed the assignments that should have been done the day before. That night, we rented "House of the Flying Daggers," and I drank a glass of wine while admiring the director's exquisite use of color. The guy at the Kiez Video and DVD is a cheapskate that charges an extra Euro if you wait until the next day to return your movie, so I made a second trip there before heading to bed. (Apparently I am also a cheapskate, but I prefer the word "thrifty.")

Jan. 20: Saturday, Saturday... oh. I switched out all the music files on my computer to MP3 files (something I should have done a long time ago), which now allows me to take my entire music collection with me on my iPod, even though there are really only about 20 or so songs that I like at any given moment. At night we met with my German teacher for dinner, a reminder that I don't yet understand the language very well.

Jan. 21: The wife and I intended to see an afternoon movie, but when we got to our favorite cinema at Potsdammer Platz (what I consider to usually be one of the most tranquil places in Berlin) half of the place was roped off in anticipation of an appearance by the lead singer of the boy band "Tokio Hotel." There was a accompanying group of about 500 screaming teenage girls there, which gave me a headache. We bought tickets for an evening showing of "Babel," which was interesting, although now I don't think I'll be looking to take a bus tour of Morocco anytime soon.

Jan. 22: My Volkshochschule session was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict, which cleared the way for me to spend a bit more time making preparations for my upcoming trip to Denmark. For dinner I cooked a delicious pasta dish using garlic, pesto, yellow pepper, onions, and some good quality Italian cheese. I matched it with a nice glass of French red wine, and then proceeded to read my book and write in my journal.

Jan. 23: My Volkshochschule class was once again underway, and fortunately I had enough time to complete the assignments that I'd put off until that morning. In the evening I attended my first Chinese class. I found that to be interesting study material; the language is so much different from English or German or any other language I have studied. It is also much more fun to write the characters.

Jan. 24: I had my intermediate German grammar class again, the one where the women rule by a ratio of 12-to-1 or so. (The Greek guy showed up again, and apparently intends to keep coming back. I think he is single.) I felt generally clueless, although after getting my wife to help me with the next week's assignment after we ate dinner together, I felt somewhat better about it all. We retired, she managing to read nearly three pages of the Paul Theroux book I recommended to her before falling asleep, I reminiscing in my journal about a visit to Amsterdam several years ago.

So that is all; this morning we awoke to find snow on the ground outside and water of a comparable temperature in our shower. And like every other piece of bad writing, I shall end this entry abruptly.