I am a proud man... I've always been taught that I am one of those people that stands out among the normality of this world. Rebelliously, I have always strove to be accepted and loved by everyone. In truth, I am weird inside and extraordinarily violent when provoked to my brink. I have learned patience pays off more than persistence, and as a result am told that I have an aggravating level of patience for all things.

At most times I am nothing but happy-go-lucky and full of jokes... When with people that know me very well I am quiet and thoughtful, usually only speaking when I am spoken to and sometimes not even then. I am a contradiction to myself but despite this I let the fact that I am loved by many be my defining standard.

I am a poet in the deepest regions of my heart but more-so a natural story teller... some would say bullshitter. I will admit, I do shit with the best of bulls.

I enjoy mystery and puzzles, along with action and horror stories... I enjoy adventures both read and experienced... I appreciate life for what it is both in simplicity and complexity... I find them both equally intriguing though the complexities are not pleasant like the simplicities.

I was jaded by death early in my life - watching my father battle with cancer for a year before pneumonia took him - resulting in my own acceptance of the realities of life and death several decades sooner than most individuals even begin to face the fact that they will inevitably pass on. My councilors were astounded by my mourning process... rather than follow the steps of denial and anger I jumped straight to acceptance. At times they would visit me at school and ask me about myself... I simply answered their questions as they busily scribbled away.

At times I find myself zooming along with whatever I'm doing, ignoring any whim to concentrate on my thoughts... Then again, at times I will be so deeply involved in my thoughts that the outside world holds no bearing in my mind.

I am, I feel, eccentric in my own way but quite normal...