I find it puzzling why people tend to find my seriousness shocking. Now, admittedly, anyone who has never met me and knows me through solely my online ramblings will find that seriousness and I go along together quite easily, albeit somewhat infrequently. Humor and I have always been much closer companions, particularly with the aspects of myself that I choose to share with the outside world. However when the two collide (my friends and my serious side, often in the form of me sharing one of my psychobabblements) suddenly, all chaos breaks lose. Was I suicidal? Am I manic-depressive? Did I really write that? The worry and confusion flood over them with such astounding power that I almost fear their drowning in it. And so, for the record, I would like to explain the riddle of my duality.

I am, generally speaking, a fun loving person. Laid back was a phrase coined in my honor. I have always been one who will self-sacrifice dignity for a laugh. Why? Because smiles are contagious, and seeing other people happy usually cheers me out of any funk.

On the other hand, life is highly imperfect. The road of my travels tends to be a lot more gravel and potholes than paved highway. My best thoughts and insights tend to occur in two places: on paper (or screen) and in the shower. Now, there are very few people who get invited into the shower with me, and I am certain that while group-effort showers are enjoyable, they have for me never produced an epiphany, although I admit that some of those fruits have been almost as earth shattering. That leaves my writings as my primary source with which I can communicate my introspection with my adoring public. And here's another bulletin: these blurbs are not solitary occurrences. They actually run rampant through my thoughts numerous times a day, it's just rare that I feel like expelling the effort into putting them into words and coherent phrases when joking and laughing is so much more fun and entertaining. Besides, I express myself much better in text form. Spoken word is great for comedy–some things simply must be seen. My serious moments, however, must be immortalized on paper, to be read and reread, analyzed and understood. That's where my enlightenment comes from. And sometimes I choose to let people come in and behold my strange little world in it's entirety–not just the storms of humor and goodwill of it's atmosphere, but the planes of calm, the foothills of panic, the pools of worry, and the oceans of love as well. My life has not been all sunshine, rainbows and lollipops, but that doesn't mean that I am going to take life's imperfections out on the world. It's not just experiences that make us who we are, it's our reactions to them as well.

So remember, as you stride through my raw and uncensored ramblings of consciousness–this is me discovering me, exploring me, poking and prodding me, and I'm inviting you along for the ride. I have weaknesses and upsets, the same as anyone else. Suicide is not an option, and I have bi-yearly, week long conference with depression–which, interestingly enough, tends to be when I do some of my better writings. So don't panic. This, too, shall pass. And in the meantime, come walk with me through the train yard of my thoughts. Don't judge, just enjoy. Be open, you just might be surprised.