DEVIN HiLL, A RENAiSSANCE MAN

The Winter of my Discontainment: December 20th, 1981, Lloydminster, Saskatchewan, Canada.

Specs: 6'1", brown eyes and hair.

Education: Fourth year at the University of Saskatchewan, pursuing a degree in Archaeology, while also taking a serious regiment of Geo Information Systems, Forensic Anthropology, and Art.

What's the Deal with Me?: Relying on other people for entertainment is a sucker's bet, for it invariably creates the sort of person who has none of the idependence they so fervently protest to have. Instead, they claim to enjoy 'hanging out'. Hanging out only pisses me off, especially when I look across at my friends and they haven't got a thing moving through their empty minds. I come to the conclusion that those people who like to 'hang out' don't like hanging out with other people like them. They want to spend their time with people who have hobbies, passions and personalities in general. I see little difference between hangers out and hangers on. They're both vampires. The trick to being entertained is to be the entertainer, even if nobody is around to enjoy it.

Why I Never Smile: In comparison to the excruciating pain that some people must endure on a day to day basis, I count myself lucky. But if I take time to dwell on my own particular brand of self created misery, I am left feeling alone and foolish, for I have crafted a marvelous prison for myself. The bars are behavioural, the cold steel toilet in the corner is where my dreams go when I've given up on them. But I still have enough fire in my blood to rage against the walls of my jail...perhaps one day I'll let myself out.

A Few of My Favorite Things: I like to waste a great deal of time playing computer games, but not the nerdy strategy kind that aren't really a test of intelligence, but a test of just how long you are willing to sit there before you get bored and pass out. I like the ones that tell a story, or let the player tell their own story through exploration and personal improvement. Multiplayer is usually the trick to having the most fun, as it allows you to interact with people in the spirit of competition and cooperation. However, there are a breed of individuals who play online only to create misery and havoc. They shoot their team mates, they destroy those players who are much weaker than themselves. They talk shit to anyone who will listen. It is a hobby of mine to find these blackhearted losers, and to spoil their sociapathic fun in any way I can. When I'm not saving the universe from evil I try to teach myself piano, which is going along swimmingly if slowly. I don't know how to play 'Twinkle, Twinkle' or 'Chopsticks', but I don't mind struggling a little harder with Mozart or Ben Folds. The point is to enjoy the music you make, and make the music you enjoy. I just can't really get into children's tunes anymore. I'm also trying to write a book somewhat in the tradition of Crichton, but in a more colloquial style, like that of Robert Jordan. Just take a look at the Andromeda Strain, and you'll see exactly what I hope not to write. There will be a plot, and not just an excuse of a storyline. There will be characters, not just names with jobs. There will be a deeper social and political commentary woven into every word. I also like art, but only my own. The art of others just leads me to resent that which I cannot create, and dismiss that which I can. My walls are covered in my own work, a kind of reminder that I can create something of worth if I take the time. That's an easy thing to forget. Also, having past works on the wall forces me to never settle for anything markedly worse, or it will never make it onto the wall.

Vivid dreams and fantasy, blending silently into unbelievable reality. Our hopes and dreams, fears and anxieties...these become the world of tomorrow.