Iητσ τhe Midηighτ Sυη ♪☮♡

About me:

☮, ♥

Singing and playing in a band - and touring - is what I would ultimately love to get to do. Keep an eye out for The Escapists.

A Myriad Of Ridiculous Fun Facts Designed To Allow You To Get To Know Me If You Are For Some Reason So Inclined:

The main reason I love Journey's music so much is because when I listen to it I get strange flashes of beautiful memories that I can never quite grasp, and I've been trying to make sense of it since I became a fan two and a half years ago. There's something about a room full of neon that's especially mystifying to me. I can't imagine its origins or why it seems so important that I remember but I keep hoping that one day it will all become clear. Either this or I have some ties to Journey or Steve Perry from a previous life. >_>

Alan Alda was so hott on M*A*S*H! There. I said it.

Urban Outfitters catalogues are so artistically inspiring. The photography and layouts and graphics, double exposures and layered images are so impossibly gorgeous, I would imagine whoever gets to do them has their ultimate dream job. And then there are the clothes. I just want to live in an UO catalogue, basically. I feel like they understand me.

Karaoke, anyone?

Pink and yellow are gorgeous. Neon is gorgeous. Neon pink and neon yellow are mind-blowingly gorgeous. But my favorite color is currently dark blue-ish purple, even though I swore I'd never love purple again. Enter my dark phase.

My secret sixth sense is knowing whenever a Journey song is playing on the radio. And if Journey isn't playing but I REALLY want to hear a song I can usually will the radio to play one, if I concentrate hard enough.

Megan taught me the Macarena in her TV room when we were about five years old.

Letters of the alphabet, digits, days of the week, months and the calendar year all appear in very specific colors in my mind because I have synaesthesia, which, most simply put, is defined as "crossed wires in the brain" allowing for any combination any two of the human senses. Everyone is born with these sensory wires crossed but most people's straighten out in early childhood. Synaesthetes are the people whose wires never uncross. There are many different forms of this condition, but most prominent is colored-grapheme synaesthesia, which I have. Seeing words and dates in full color helps me memorize things better than most non-synaesthetes, plus it makes everything prettier to look at. Synaesthetes don't choose which colors or patterns or images they associate with the senses; they are simply somewhat predetermined and unpredictable and different for every single person. In addition to colored-grapheme synaesthesia I also see music in colors and patterns. The best way I can describe this is to you is, it's like having a built-in iTunes visualizer for music.

[If you can't figure out what the heck I'm talking about check this out: http://cytowic.net/Synesthesia/Synesth__Encyclo_/synesth__encyclo_.HTM And be jealous.]

If I ever lost my mind and decided to brand myself with a tattoo it would have to be a little Journey Winged Scarab. Doesn't hurt that it stood for eternal life to the ancient Egyptians. Edit: I'm starting to like the idea of a tattoo now more than before. WHO AM I?

I honestly don't know.

Surprise me by asking me something I can't possibly see coming. I'll almost always answer as truthfully as possible, as it's my nature. Or tell me something completely spontaneous. I want to know what you know.

Cheap Trick says Everything Will Work Out If You Let it, if you let it in your heart.

Flickr.com loves me and I love it back dearly. Artistic photos of sunsets and radio towers and other beautiful scenic images abound. I'm a really visually-oriented person. Check out my own original photography on my Albums page, and let me know what you think.

Twinkies, in my professional opinion, are vile, disgusting creations that are good for nothing other than paving the hypothetical road to diabetes. Little Debbie should rot in Hell for selling cheap, greasy, sugar-soaked sponges labeled as "food" to poor people who probably won't be able to afford heart transplants once their own vital organs fail after fifteen years of downing Ho-Hos and Cosmic Brownies at snacktime. If we dropped this sort of crap into poverty-stricken rural areas of third world countries it would probably not occur to the inhabitants to eat them. They might use them for mattress stuffing, though. [Rant inspired by Dave Barry, who I should add to my "Heroes" section.]

Sometimes I wear strange clothes. I don't care.

Speaking of Hell, I don't believe in it. At the core of any person from any walk of life is some reservoir of humanity which has the potential to change and grow and supercede what we define as "evil", no matter how many dirty deeds said person may have committed throughout the span of their lifetime, and thus no one truly deserves to eternally suffer in a fiery pit of Old-Testament destruction. Go ahead and call me Anne Frank. [I assure you, that came from my own head, no plagiarism there.]

Exactly how rare are shooting stars? If I go outside with the intention of spotting a shooting star and making a wish on it I almost always get to. Cue Bad Company: "Dooon't yoooou knoooow that you are a shoo-ting-starrr? Yes, you arrrree..."

If I had been born two decades earlier I might've been a lot better off, but we can never know for sure.

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