(2003)- at 27 i have finally realized i am a writer. it has always been my strongest natural inclination after my gypsy-esque wanderlust gene (and that of my profession which is webmaster extraordinaire). i have always been told though that my writing is not abstract enough, too flexible, not as creative as other people seem to think ideal. and it's true, my forays into creative writing have thus far become rambling disasters. it seems i am unable to focus long enough to put together a coherent storyline (very detrimental to my eventual goal to write a book) thus far. my life has been a hilariously impossible combination of circumstances that i think most people would find very interesting. but i have trouble giving the narrative a consistent voice, and for now have decided to stick to short anecdotes, along the line of a magazine column. thus is conceived this section of my site... my friend dr. martin agrees with my best (and very eloquently talented) friend 'x' that a true writer writes- if just an hour a day and at first only garbage. so i write. you are welcome to sift through my trash in search of treasure.