A figure walks into the room, and places her head upon the desk. She looks at the keyboard through a mop of short brown hair, where her fingers seem to type of their own accord into a text editing box on the screen..

The name of the author whose ramblings you seem to wish to read, is Cécile. That, would be me. I know, what is this? An author writing her own profile? Such madness! Such foolishness! We have robots and younger siblings to do that for us now! Yes, that may be true, but this one enjoys it. So there ha. I tend to dress in black. Well, other than jeans. I only have one pair of black pants, and they don't fit me. Murrrr. Therefore, to feed my need to be swathed in a black shroud, and the need to be warm, I purchased a black trenchcoat. It happens to be wool, and it has buckles. In conjunction with my rather short, as in, a man-short, mop of brown hair upon my head, people end up thinking I am older than I really am. What with my maturity outranking that of many individuals my age, it is not surprising.

I dislike the sun, I much prefer the perpetual cloudiness of my home, and the dim light of the computer screen with a mug of hot beverage and my music. There have been several instances in which I have been asked if I was a vampire because of this, and on one occasion there was a debate on which type of vampire I was. Terrible, really. Of course, the fact that I wear silver all the time, and love garlic, doesn't really fit into their whole little scheme.

As sorta-not-really mentioned above, I love music. In fact, living without it.. well, there could be no such thing. At the moment, the song Big Ass Rock from "The Full Monty" is running through my head. Bahaha. I listen to everything, and I mean that. So if there's some band that you think that someone could never like, send me a link, and I shall listen to it. An interesting fact about music is that one's tastes and preferences in music are usually solidified by late adolescence, early twenties, which is why the older generations, parents, grandparents, etc. have such a hard time dealing with "all that horrendous noise" that we need to turn down.

Ah! But alas! The individuals who ransacked my old account are returning, and I must therefore flee to protect the sanity and sanctity of this account! Farewell, my minions.

Cécile looks up as her fingers stop typing, and looks at the rather large block of words on the screen. She looks at the verbosity of her profile, and turns away in disgust. But there is nothing she can do at the moment. She sighs, and clicks the "Save" button, until another opportunity arises.