Semper Fidelis, brothers and sisters.
I'm in shape but not in any military shape. I'm trying to get back to the lean, mean machine I was in the Marines. So I'm working out more often like I was in the Corps, but with a lot less O'dark-thirty mornings and punitive boots and utes or 20 milers. I would love to try the Spartan Race, it looks a lot like boot camp and I'm sure I can do it.
Also, I've a mind to go back and finish my bachelor's degree since it seems the opportunity I left school to pursue has run it's course. I'd really love to major in philosophy instead of engineering but I'm not sure there are any job openings for the next Camus or Sartre.
My greatest strength is my ability to learn very quickly. After years of picking up and running with a new skill, I have a pastiche of skills that have all been useful at one point or another. As a consequence, a drinking game that some of my friends like to play using me as the game piece, of sorts, is entitled, "Drink if Tim has ever done this."
I don't particularly go out of my way to watch a movie. And I haven't watched TV in over two years.
As for music, I listen to anything but I do have a penchant for classical works, swing, and modern and classic rock.
Mmm... food. That is a difficult one and I'm certain to run out of room so I'll only venture into my latest memorable dining experience. I've recently enjoyed my sushi chef cousin's visit, it might have had something to do with the live fish, fresh caught fish, and overnight shipped once-frozen fish he brought along. I don't think I've had that much sushi and sashimi in one sitting in my life.
End. Done. Fini. There are a great many things that I am "from my cold, dead hands" about. Choosing six items would be agonizing and entirely dependant on why I'm forced to choose just six items.
Honestly, I don't have any one thing I think about. My mind meanders from one scenario to the next with events that could have been, and usually are, torn from whatever I've read, seen, or heard. For example: I sit in my office on the fourth floor and wonder what I might do if the floors below me became a blazing inferno, terrorists come take hostages, or the zombie outbreak flares to life. Probably a side effect of an overactive imagination coupled with military MOUT defense training. Or just the overactive imagination.
... no, not really.
I'm not sure what to put here. My pinkie toes look mangled?
We'll keep it simple. Just message me if you want to message me.