New character time. The Wyrd Sprites are my fate altering gremlins. And how I wish they weren't real. College. Freshman year. A spring semester of flirtation ends in a first date. Because there wasn't a second.

I lived with this person for a year. She attempted suicide while I was at work. I left. Got fired. And when I got there and reached for her ... she stabbed me. Paramedics arrived and took us both. She lived. Me? Not so much.

Age 17. One choice? A chain-reaction of disasters. That I am still paying for. And probably will as long as I draw breath. Change it? For better or worse, I do not know. It's not about her. But it's made all the difference.

(a) I have boring brown eyes. Except. They have a dark inner ring with deep radial furrows and a wide dark green outer ring. In between? Enough gold that will "glow" in just the right lighting. Or so I've been told.

I was 22. Cast party. Summer Stock. I had become friends with one of the actors. The show was her weird way of celebrating and unwinding. After working her way through school. Debt free. As an exotic dancer.

(b) The other day "kid me" cried about curses. While old enough to have seen misery at Municipal Stadium - I'm not old enough to have seen glory. BUT "adult me" paid for 0-16 and gave "kid me" something to really cry about.

I can't recommend having a baby - or getting married - at the age of 20. Too many 3am thoughts about "swimming" in the Monongahela River. But that was me. My life? A giant steaming pile of absurdity. And THIS? More than once.

22. Divorced. 3rd shift at WalMart, substitute teacher by day and theatre in the evening. LIFE? Having the electricity in your tiny apartment shutoff. While eating Beanie Weenies. Out of the can. Over the sink. On a 90 degree day.

Age 25. I dated this girl (who was 2" taller than me) for over a year. My only relationship with another writer. THIS-ish really happened walking into a bar. Not her fault. Abandonment issues over the death of her father.

Yes, I realize in this context the children are more like "ammunition". But ... Wait! Why am I justifying myself to you?!? This is MY cartoon! Anyway. This is as good as it's gonna get for a Christmas mood from me this year.

A Script Analysis prof gave me Beauty and the Beast. This was my response. I hate guessing. I loathe games. Feeling like a mouse. Studied in a maze. Does Belle TRULY want the miracle? It's her boundaries vs his needs. Go Cavs!

I'm in a weird mood. So. I originally used the word "chase" - but going with my gut. For humor. Or I think it is. Who knows? Maybe it's a cry for help. That leaked out. Met an iceberg. Froze. And sank. PS. Yes, I mixed poles.

Self-Help Sunday! How? I realized at an early age I have distinct personalities I could "change into" as needed. And? Time for a "sane" me. If. You ask. Has anyone ever seen the real me? I'm not sure who that is anymore.

Loving someone. And. Loving to toss them out of an airplane. Are not mutually exclusive. Anyway. An alternate ending to this campy movie from 1979? The era that is sadly representative of my horrific sense of humor.

I started using the internet while I was in college. Then. The Cleveland Freenet. I still remember my user ID – io382. Ah, the wonderful days-gone-by of chat rooms. But. I actually did meet a former girlfriend in one.

Does someone care about THIS math? So. What is half of creation? Is it a very large number? And. How is it measured? Did time start counting at zero? Yet more ponders. What prompted the “bang”? I doubt I’ll ever find out.

I had this in three funnier places. But. I thought about who might see it. And. What could happen. Acting responsibly isn’t censorship, giving up rights or sacrificing freedoms. It’s being human. Instead of ghosts.

Sillyistic Sunday! Would I want to be a ghost? That depends. On? If it’s an anything-goes-anywhere afterlife. If so? Then no! But if it’s the Beetlejuice model and certain terms and restrictions apply? Absolutely!

I'm in a silly mood. Ahh. Yeah. Nostalgia does that. I'm a 70s child. And it was a weird time in history. Just on the edge of the progress of technology. But still very much a vinyl, black-and-white, pre-home-computer era. I didn't go the "arcade" a lot. But. I did. The closest was a 15 minute bike ride away. To a coffee-shop "slash" donut-shop that had a handful of games eager to swallow some quarters.

One of the first plays I remember attending – I believe in the 2nd grade – included a dramatization of "The Princess and the Pea". I think that was perfectly appropriate, considering my unhealthy fascination with fairy tales.