I'm a big fabulous rainbow-crapping social justice complainer. I love my job and hate the people that I work for, but until I make enough freelancing to go to grad school, here I stay.

Writing the next Great American Novel, feeling like a hack. Trying a liquid diet; trying polyphasic sleep. Trying to bond a trio of pissed off chinchillas. Working entirely too much. Getting my neck tattoos removed because, what the fuck, younger me?

Wasting time, thinking way too much about things and constructing complex conspiracies. Playing the saxophone, and absolutely no other instrument not in fake plastic form. Starting to learn something, then wandering off toward shiny objects. Retaining information long after I wish I could have forgot. Being a nerd. Urban camping and freeganism, busking, Google-fu, RPGs, and intentionally mistreating the English language. Also, no joke, I am an absolutely stellar cook.

The tattoos and piercings, and how apparently weird it is that someone who "looks like me" is polite and well-spoken. (Y'know how I know that's what people notice? Because that's what strangers comment on. You don't have to "be narcissistic" or ask people to be able to answer this question. Just pay attention to your own reality, jeez.)

Goofy musicals, Park Chan-Wook, Twain , Lil Wayne, D&D, Vonnegut, Homestuck, DC, Nabokov, Tech N9ne, Venture Brothers, Rushdie, Kanye, Marvel, McCarthy

Presented incomplete and with no particular rationale, because the details matter less than the spirit. This should give you an idea of taste without subjecting you go a godawful wall of text list that no one will read anyway.

Just Read: 1984. Because it was less depressing than what I read before that and I needed a pick me up.
Just Watched: Rise of the Planet of the Apes. I generally hate the look of CG graphics, but damn did those chimps' eyes look good.
If you know where I can get a copy of Begotten for less than $60, I'll love you forever.

Caffeine, nicotine, xanax, rock 'n roll, wifi, good company

At what point the effort put into being ironic just becomes lame.

Writing, making music, and being famous. And, honestly, I spend a disproportionate amount of time thinking about sex.

The fact that buffalo chicken Pringles are the only flavor that contain no animal byproducts.

Whether or not I'm playing into the concept of a gender binary by fighting it.

The fact that if Freudian should be capitalized, narcissistic should be as well.

Whether I'll ever find someone else willing to go without caffeine, nicotine and meat who isn't a dirty weirdo hippie.

Oh, the life of we poor souls who volunteer for graveyard shift.

I'm not going to talk about my queer identification here, all it nets me are creepy questions. Don't be a creep.

Also, I have 2 admittedly neurotic phobias. You'd think it would be easy to steer conversations away from those 2 things, but if I mention them that's all people ever want to talk about.

You want to buy me lunch or something. I am a bored, starving student.

You are not gross. Please take a shower.

I lament that there are options to search for "guys who like bis" and "girls who like bis" but not "just bisexuals." Not that that's a hard-and-fast rule, just something that I've found works for me.