So, I'm an odd person.  Nearly everyone I meet will tell me, at a random point in the initial five minutes of meeting me, that I'm weird.  Because, apparently, I need to be told.  Perhaps my personality is like a serious addiction; you have to be confronted before you can accept you have it.

But I digress.

I'm very odd.

It's difficult at times having a brain likened to a concussed butterfly.

Sometimes, for no apparent reason, I'll start singing or quoting something strange.  I will then have to spend the next several minutes trying to understand the chain of segues that led my brain to wherever it ended up.

My head is a difficult place to live.  It's noisy, chaotic and full of trivia in there.

Then again, I suppose I'd rather live in the busy, crowded city than the desert wasteland.

RATE THIS CHAPTER!