I am attempting to postpone growing up and making real life decisions by obtaining as many postgraduate degrees as my time, finances, and nomadic desires allow. My friends call me a “hipster with a heart of gold” but they just don’t understand how ironical I can be.

Right now, as I type and you read (July 2010), I am about to relocate to a very cold seaside city in New England, to get a master’s degree in marine biology, to include travel stints in Panama (the country, not the spring break locale) and Washington (the state, not the district).

I shall now give you the abbreviated version of the circumstances that led to this endeavor: graduated with a bachelor’s degree from the university which employs the lovely Kim; worked for ten months at the clubhouse of a private residential community (and utilized my degree in no way, shape, or form); decided that a master’s degree in marine science seemed like a logical progression; realized I needed organic chemistry, physics and calculus to make this happen, moved away from Kim (and our other college family member, Dava) to attend something I dubbed “secondcollege”; upon completion of “secondcollege,” and with no graduate school acceptances in sight, I hightailed it back to my dad’s house to live for free, do lame ass shit with Kim and Dava, and spend my limbo year traveling with bands as a merchandise and tour manager; upon completion of a national tour, I was promptly and surprisingly accepted into my top choice graduate program. Dreams do come true, y’all!

My plan is to start my master’s program in the fall of 2010. In the fantasy portion of this plan, National Geographic swoops me out of my landlocked stupor upon completion of said program and sends me around the world to take pictures, write stories, and narrate documentaries about denizens of the sea.

When I’m not nerding it up in advanced science and math courses, I am writing fairy tales for Kim to illustrate, repeatedly reading Jane Austen and Harry Potter, traveling and galavanting about while destroying my hearing at concerts (referred to as “shows” in all future correspondence), trying my hand at photography, crafting, and make a lot of awkward life choices.

I feel it necessary to forewarn you that all of my contributions to this blog will be witheringly sarcastic, cynical, judgmental, and quite possibly inappropriate. Or they will contain an abundance of references to unicorns.