It's Something From Your Childhood...
You're Thinking, "Don't Be Frightened."

I was dragged into the world kicking and screaming at 8:03 a.m. on a nondescript September 7th some time ago. My mother dozed, drugged and unaware, as the doctor produced an unwilling C-section daughter from her womb. I weighed six and a half pounds, I was nineteen and a half inches long, and I looked like a monkey. Typical baby.

Eventually mom woke up and took me home, which at the time was Bricktown, New Jersey. I surprised everyone (my parents especially) by having a relatively normal childhood. I terrorized the dog, commanded armies of My Little Ponies and She-Ra action figures, watched entirely too much of The Muppet Show, created elaborate alternate realities, cheated at Monopoly, learned to read, and started school.

I made my acting debut at age 6 in the school "musical"...you all recall these plays, which are really nothing more than a loosely pieced-together string of songs about rabbits, dogs, ducks, dinosaurs, family values, and maybe, if you were lucky, a big finale involving cardboard scenery. My task in realizing Mrs. Moore's artistic vision was to portray the Little White Duck. I even got my own damn song. Not too big of a responsibility, but a role nonetheless. Sadly, after the teachers realized that despite their bribes, threats, and pleas, I was not going to sing, they reduced my role to some enthusiastic arm-flapping and quacking. I was more comfortable with this role, but still somehow managed to give myself a papercut on the eye with my cardboard beak. It hurt like a bitch, and I think I've been somewhat adverse to theater ever since.

I moved to Florida when I was eight, which completely blew my mind. It was constantly hot and humid outside, there were lizards on every square foot of pavement, and I finally realized what the word "suburbia" meant. I managed to live a fairly normal childhood there, too, learning to swim, making prank phone calls, climbing trees, sustaining mild injuries, reading a lot, watching entirely too much television, and creating even more elaborate alternative realities.

I spent my four high school years making the insanely long commute each morning from Safety Harbor, my home town, to St. Petersburg (Florida...not Russia), where my high school was located. I attended the International Baccalaureate program, which probably means very little to you. To me, it meant a fairly sizeable workload and comprehensive exams at the end of senior year, neither of which I took seriously and both of which I survived more or less unscathed. The most valuable lesson I learned during my stay in high school, other than the overarching "Steer clear of the crazies!", was that a person can live for the better part of a year subsisting on vanilla yogurt, cocoa puffs, and Mountain Dew, but that this is probably not a nutritionally sound idea. In fact, this diet will cause you to fall ill at least three times more frequently than you're used to.

I eventually left Florida for the greener pastures of Pennsylvania. Swarthmore College, to be precise. I'm a sophomore here at the moment, and pending approval, I'm a Special Honors Major in Film and Literature. The good news is that I've already picked out my street corner and cardboard box for when I graduate.

When not doing classwork, which is frequently, I can be found here, like the computer dork I am, on my roof, sleeping under trees, attending more concerts than my budget really allows, or pursuing food that does not come from Sharples. I also spend time with my friends (those people my parents pay to spend time with me), tap dance poorly, command armies of unsuspecting minions, and network with the people I believe will one day be responsible for running elaborate alternate realities. If you care to comment, question, or criticize, you can reach me here.

Updated April 9, 2000.
I'd check to make sure I still had all my teeth if I were you.