My 1s look like 7s, and my 4s look like 9s. Long ago I decided that accounting and writing checks was not for me.
I take too long to finish books and too little getting ready. I can't rollerskate to save anyone's life. I commute extensively and think about things like "is it worse to have bad taste or no taste at all", "words that rhyme with you-broke-my-bike-and-my-heart", and "where in the world is the engine inside a porsche?".
I imagine romanticism as walking the wall of china, one person from each end meeting in the middle.
My favorite phrases are: "holler!", "haayy" (cause that's what unicorns eat), and "pooh ya later" (due to late bear fascination)
I aspire to be someday a beautiful storyteller and an inexpensive provocateur.