Kitemarked for true low standards...

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I'm really an olla podrida of sometimes admirable and often deplorable memes.

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I get compliments on my hair, but I hate it. I have a relationship with my dying automobile that's more enveloped in beautiful pathos than most people will ever have with anything. I know a lot of big words and I'm not afraid to use them. I have a secret fantasy of being beaten up to the point of nearing death - and with the way things are going, I may finally be granted this wish.

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I want to travel regardless of situational temerity or pecuniary damage. I have a lot of libido, but I'm beginning to fear that I hate sex.

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Nothing is more pathetic and amusing to me than the human pursuit of getting a good lay.

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I hate seeing people easily swayed. I hate being guilty of things I dislike other people for - but I'll own up to them.

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I speak Japanese and French with some degree of skill. I would like to continue learning Icelandic. Basque, Catalan, Spanish, Korean, and Alsatian are in my future somewhere.

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I've never met another person I couldn't stand. I've never met another person with as much poise and confidence as myself - nor one with as much a desire to be someone else.

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My mother is dead, and blow the whistle on me for semantic cliche if you like, but it makes an important part of who I am today. I have cut myself with razors and extinguished cigarettes on my skin in response to her passing, as well as to a host of other challenges. Yet, questionably, I am less criticized for the tobacco habit I took up to replace the growing number of lesions. Frankly I hate the fact I am not allowed to continue some of my "bad habits."

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I really am skeptical of people that claim to have "no regrets". It implies a cowardly lack of hindsight (and, thus, of foresight, as well). I am unafraid of seeming ridiculous in saying I live every day choked by regret. If I could do it all over again, I *would* change things-what a blessing it would be to have a second chance. But life gives us no second chances.

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I also dislike knowing I will never become what I romanticize my future self to be. I strongly advise against parking where the road curves.

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I hope to never be on bad terms with anyone. I don't need to be popular but I would really rather not be disliked. I'll give you the last dollar in my bank account. I'll never stop dreaming that someday I'll be a musician with a fanbase (though first I need to learn how to play an instrument).

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For a variegated composite of reasons I appear to many people a difficult person to approach. Not so. Empathizing with me may be another story, however.

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I'm short. I'm smart. I'm introspective. I'm not ugly. I'm not simple. I'm not complacent.

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I'm still figuring myself out. I invite your input (be it vituperation or panegyric). Try me.

My passion is ...

Learning, loving, and living despite regret.

I know too much about ...

Misanthropy.

My parents always told me ...

They loved me. And they did. And most kids don't hear it enough.

My childhood ambition ...

To become the Björk of the video game world.

My favorite memory ...

The look on Sophie's face when she opened the door to realize I'd flown 5000 miles to see her.

Why I write ...

Because I can't cut it as an artist or musician.

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

Pedantic hooliganism and niche-market nonsense.

My first job ...

Sierra Summit Restaurant, UCSD -- the best job I'll ever have.

My best moment ...

Anytime I'm not concious.

My inspiration ...

The fey oscillation between wanting to die and wanting to win.

Travel > Europe (Other) Travel destinations: Iceland

9 of 9

I'm a strange-looking, ugly-haired fellow with a stature that would more befit a Smurf. American girls gloss me over in favor of duller chaps with BMW's and 401k's. How is it, then, I was fairly popular on the raucous Reykjavk runtur? Read on. I was fortunate enough to have expensive things I could sell (geek alert: rare video games!) so that I could make the trip to Reykjavk in November/2006 so that I could see the Sugarcubes play a reunion show. Read into that. Better yet, I'll do it for you: 1. It was November. It was cold, sure, but accommodations were comparatively cheap, and the gagg...

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