39 Washington, United States
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My self-summary
Native Washingtonian. Concertgoer/musiclover. Healthcare knowledge worker. Slow but constant reader. Frequent photographer. Amateur astronomer. Regular walker. Accidental horticulturist. Enthusiastic firewood chopper. Frequent flyer. General bourbon drinker.

Born in the District, raised in Maryland; work downtown trying to help health care providers craft viable business strategies; live in Logan Circle.

A few notes:

- If a service is free, you're not the customer. You're the product.
- Whiskey, wine or beer.
- I cite and curate, and am rarely original.
- My first car was a baby blue 1976 Chevrolet El Camino.
- "I Feel The Earth Move Under My Feet" is the worst song of all time.
- Two things terrify me: (1) bees and (2) getting eaten by a giant constrictor snake.
- I keep thinking I'm a grownup, but I'm not.
What I’m doing with my life
Tending to my job, fishes, and aloe plants. That's pretty much it.
I’m really good at
Taking pictures. And recalling film quotes. And identifying potential mashups. And blogsurfing for music. And growing aloe vera plants (inquire within if you'd like to procure an aloe plant; they are taking over my apartment). And being unexpectedly kind. And all-too-expectedly awkward.
The first things people usually notice about me
Dry sense of humor. Bone dry.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Music by Depeche Mode. And just about anything the contemporary indie-industrial complex spoon-feeds me. If you're British and would tell me to sod off in person, I probably own [stole] your music. Books by Thomas Hardy. Movies written by Steve Martin. Reality TV showing experiments in terror. Food that someone else prepared.

Favorite band: DM
Favorite book: Oxford Atlas of the World
Favorite movie: L.A. Story
Favorite TV show: How It's Made
Favorite food: peanut butter
The six things I could never do without
(1) Scheming
(2) Whiskey
(3) A hot bath
(4) Puns
(5) Peanut butter
(6) My family (tie)
(6) Diet Coke (tie)
I spend a lot of time thinking about
The validity of my own senses. And how I profess to hate people's insipid Facebook updates while secretly loving how superior they make me feel ("Just found a parking space--LIKE").
On a typical Friday night I am
Skulking about as a masked vigilante, striking terror into the hearts of criminals. Or weeping uncontrollably.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I cry at the end of Apollo 13 every time it's on TV. Every time. And I don't cry at anything. I'm proudly mostly dead inside. But Apollo 13, man, she's a harsh mistress. Oh, and I shave my head every two days or so.
You should message me if
You feel like it.