Well, first of all, I’m a rabid historian who is at significant risk of being a hoarder – based solely on the number of photo books (shutterfly shout-out!), journals, computer carcasses. I just like to record in every possible medium – moving pictures, still pictures, journals, blogs. Which is why I’m
hoarding accruing this narcissistic number of “About Me” pages. That or I change significantly every year. (I don’t.)
I’m an expat – originally from California, living in Montreal. I don’t get it when people say I live in Canada. I live in Quebec. It really doesn’t feel the same. (No offense, rest of Canada. Okay, maybe some offense.) I’m a writer, which gets trickier to define by the day. I used to solely write character-driven literary, whether for the page or for the screen, but the past year and two novels have been speculative fiction and I’m in looooove. I’m gonna date this bio by saying I’m currently at work marrying the two (moreso) and that I shall never venture a guess at defining what I write, ever again. Because that’s just the kind of man I am this week.
Which brings us to family. And how mine – from my earliest recollection – holds entire conversations in movie/sitcom/documentary quotes. I used to think we were odd, but then the internet came and showed us that everyone’s odd. (Thank you, internet.) I’m happily, sappily married with a little boy who is sdijfosijgfdhjg. And a beagle. (Jealous.) I’m a believer aka follower of Christ and I can’t even really figure out a way to succintly and briefly say what that means, what He’s done and how excited I am for the rest of the life before me. So I’ll say that!
And basically, Pinterest knows me better than I know myself. That and I doubt the rest of my About Me pages have really expired so. Sure, read those, too. (It’s not weird.)