About Me
Left: me and my faithful companion, Boo Kitty

I lived the early years of my life in the town of Walla Walla, Washington, famous for its sweet onions and its prison. I remember it as hot, but not stuffy. The air was friendly and so were the people. I spent the first decade of my life there, before I packed up and moved to Billings, Montana. Billings was everything Walla Walla was not: instead of clean, the air was dirty (it stunk), instead of friendly, the people seemed suspicious. A criminal fled from the police through our house (this is true). I didn't really like it there, and it didn't distress me that much when I found out we were moving to Corvallis.

Corvallis was tiny compared to big-city life in Billings and Walla Walla. I can remember many nights of sheer boredom, spent practicing with my first band, or trying to find a parking lot to skate in where the cops would leave us alone, or going to the (shudder) basketball game. The Bitterroot was not an interesting place. Aside from the occasional play from the Hamilton Playhouse or punk show (at which hardly anybody seemed to be enjoying themselves), it was a dreary place. Sure, it was beautiful. Sure, it was friendly. But it also was empty. Maybe someday I will want to live there again, when I have kids to worry about and am tired of living in mid-sized cities, but I cannot say I miss it that much. The people left a hole in my heart: family, friends, teachers, crushes, but I am not that far away.

I moved to Missoula in September to begin my education at the University of Montana. So far college life has treated me well: Missoula is like Walla Walla, but cooler (both in terms of temperature and chances of stumbling upon a hackey sack circle). I can actually see myself teaching here after I graduate. The city is big enough to have something interesting happen each day, but small enough so that I don't have to lock my car door at night.

At the beginning of my junior year of high school I stopped eating meat. I tire of being asked why (unless a fellow herbivore asks me why, then it's like small talk), so it boils down to this: meat became yucky. Now, I can't stand the taste of it. Also, it's an ethical issue. I'm not going to start describing why, because when this happens omivores feel obliged to defend their viewpoints and reasons.

I'm also an agnostic, leaving away from belief in the existence of a One True God. I have spirituality, I think you have to in order to not go insanse, just not in one frowning, paternal, authority figure who, to quote Loki, "Shakes a finger from thousands of years ago and says... don't, or I'll fuckin' spank you!" Maybe we're our own Gods. There is a power and potential in human beings that we have only begun to tap in our million years of existence.

I want to see the world. My life has been confined to four states. I want to stand atop the Empire State building and look up from the bottom of Death Valley. I want to order food from a French waiter in French and to kiss the Blarney Stone. I want to see celebration in the Chinese New Year and, morbid as it sounds, sickness in an African village (I want to see it if it exists; I'd rather see disease extinguished).

More than all of that, though, I want to teach. There is a power, an innocence, and a fiery curiosity in kids that fascinates me and always brings a smile to my face. I can't imagine any career other than an English teacher.

What it all boils down to is this: I want to make a difference.