in Writing

An autobiography

Because it’s my blog, and I’ll talk about myself if I want to.

I like to think I cultivate an air of aggressive unlikability, which may or may not be the way I deal with being an introvert.

I wake up at 4:30AM most days – not because I have to, but for the thrill of running on an empty sidewalk.

When Procrastinators Anonymous becomes a thing, you’ll find me at the inaugural meeting.

I think about most things in terms of how they affect me. I don’t appreciate my wife enough. (Those last two things are definitely related.)

If your email is more than a paragraph, I will skim it. Sometimes I “Reply All” just to clog your inbox.

My paradise is a decked out cabin in the woods where no one can find me. Scratch that – it’s a world where I can order and receive fast food without interacting with another human being. Por que no los dos?

No, I’m not reading your group texts.

Math is not my forte.

I feel like I’ve made it my ambition to get through life by putting forth the absolute bare minimum of effort. It works out most of the time – not so much when it comes to cleaning. Or doing the dishes. Or vacuuming. I could go on.

I cried at the end of Big Fish – thus proving that I am occasionally capable of displaying basic human emotion.

Death metal: it’s a thing I enjoy.

There was a period of about five years where my only footwear was a pair of Walmart flip flops. I’m still embarrassed about it.

I am neither a lover, nor a fighter, but I do live every day like it’s war.