Now: I am not a fighter-pilot nuclear physicist. I have settled for the achievable dream of being an international superstar of stage and screen. Yes, the "safety school" of careers. Speaking of safety schools, while I do follow my passion for acting, I also do a lot of tutoring for college entrance exams. [insert "gotta pay the bills" cliché] Awesome.
I grew up in North Carolina, but not the banjo and racism area (it was a more defined area when I was growing up). I moved out to LA after college because [insert cliché about following your dream], and after a ridiculous and rocky start to that, have been loving it out here ever since. I have some absurd stories, but the most ridiculous would probably involve my vendetta against Pimp My Ride, which they TOTALLY started. (Note: this is actually not sarcastic - they started it. For reals! Bastards.)
"Ferryboats stirred across the Sound and disappeared toward the horizon. Gatsby had seen something strange and new in this untrammeled land, but contemplating it now I could only think one sad, unvarnished thought. We are born, we eat a lot of lunches, and then we die." - one of the failed endings Fitzgerald wrote for Gatsby. I like it because it talks about lunches.
TV Shows: Community seasons 1-3 (can we agree that season 4 didn't happen?), Always Sunny, the British Top Gear, Justified, Californication, Archer, Parks & Rec, South Park, the League, etc. Single camera comedies. True Detective season 1. Danger 5.
Books: wildly varying. Just finished The Universe Within by Neil Turok, working on The Theoretical Minimum by Leonard Susskind. These books are super nerdy. My love of terrible movies does not extend to terrible books - I really enjoy the Twilight movies, because they're inadvertently hilarious, but only made it through 5 pages of the first book. Ugh.
Music: wildly varying. Right now, classic rock - like, a LOT of Foreigner.
And these days, trying to make sense of Euler's proof that the sum of all positive integers is -1/12. Because I'm a big nerd.
On a typical Friday night I am
sitting in my office, knee deep in a bottle of Scotch, wondering where my life went wrong. I clean my Colt .45 and put it back in the shoulder holster, glad that there's one thing close to my heart that won't leave me for my former partner.
It's one of those early summer nights where the air is heady with promise and ozone and car exhaust. The door cracks open, the blinds rattle against the window frame, and the wind carries in a hint of one part Chanel No. 5 and two parts trouble. And right on schedule, the trouble walks in the door.
Or... I could go with Haunted WWII vet or Graduate from The School of Hard Knocks? As you can tell, Friday is exciting!
Or you want to tell me that my P.I. alter-ego is a rip-off of Tracer Bullet. Because 1) yes, totally, and 2) seriously message me right now, I love you.
Or if you can explain to me how Maldacena's holographic principle correlated into AdS-CFT correspondence doesn't indicate the obvious conclusion; that the visible universe is probably just the inside of a black hole somewhere else. Or MAYBE I just looked up some big words on the Internet and strung them together just to sound smart.