There's not really a whole lot to say about me. I'm a freshman. So I guess that pretty much gives you a good idea of where I stand on the whole 'path of life' thing: hanging somewhere off the edge scraping my slightly jagged and bitten fingernails into the concrete in an attempt to not fall off into the mysterious mush of failure and janitorial work.

By the way...I have nothing against janitors, you guys are great.

I don't really know what I'm doing here. College, I mean. Everyone else was doing it at the time and I guess I'm a lemming because here I am too. At college. Still not knowing what I'm doing.

So in short, I'm pretty average.

Ah, good ol' mom and dad. The people responsible for my life. If there was an awards show for parenting, I think they would get an Honorable Mention for Effort. Dad works for some indiscriminate software company shuffling paperwork from 9 to 5 Monday through Friday while Mom is, strange as it sounds, a professional knitter. Yes, they do exist and yes, it is her dream job. It gives her lots of time to read pretentious parenting books. Anyway, they were both around a lot when I was a kid and continue to be casually supportive, purposefully out of the way and pretty much the Model Parents. I can't complain.

Sean is my roommate. And that's all he is. I must stress this because I am very adamant about not ever being seen as his 'friend'. Now, this isn't because of his bizarre wannabe rock-star fashion sense, nor his obsession with getting laid or even his constant state of intoxication. It's because when he leaves the room, a vaguely sickening stench that you weren't previously aware of mysteriously evaporates. I just don't want to get involved...if you know what I mean...

Oh and that's Blake, Sean's friend. I would never say this to his face, but I think his sunglasses make him look like a cheap rip-off Power Ranger.

Some artist chick who ran into me with a bicycle because she was reading a newspaper. Can we say irresponsible?