I realized that I've been on here now for a couple of weeks now and I haven't even taken the time to introduce myself. Rather rude, I thought, so it is time to rectify that. I'm not sure how many people are going to read this, so for those brave three souls who actually take the time, here is my story...

I was born to middle-class Georgia folk. Good people who love me, but didn't get along so well together. They divorced when I was four, leading me to a childhood and adolescence of trips between my parents' houses. "I'm sorry to hear that." That's what people say sometimes when I tell them. Why? They get along much better apart. And I've never really known the difference anyway.

I picked up my love for drawing and illustration when I was 10 and I got my first comic book. X-Men #1 with the Jim Lee Magneto variant cover. My best friend at the time, Charlie Brown (hand to God that's his real name), gave it to me and I just devoured it. I started consuming X-Men titles, Batman, Superman (right around the Death of Superman), and the Image comics that would be released during this same period. For the first time in my life, I was in love with a medium.

As I got into high school, I continued my passion for comics and drawing, but by now I had transitioned into the more adult titles like Sandman (best ever!), Preacher, and Animal Man, moving away from the rather shallow superhero genre at the time. I graduated from high school and felt like I had no direction. Don't get me wrong, I had opportunities and choices, as I was no moron by any stretch (King Nerd over here!), but nothing felt "right." And I was never confident enough in my illustrations to pursue it seriously. So I found a school to give me a free ride and as I headed off to college, comics started fading away from the forefront of my mind...

College was spent trying to find out who I am. Jesus, that's cliched. But true. A lot of partying, more than my share of the illicit substances, but also a lot of work. I tried my hand at everything. I took management classes, writing classes, philosophy classes...many of them didn't count to my major (a general art BFA declaration, as I hadn't chosen a specific area yet). I didn't care, though. I wasn't paying for it. I found out that I could do just about anything well if I applied myself, but I didn't find that "love" in any of these different studies.

During these years, I was also working heavily with a local band named Groove Stain, with whom I still do a lot of work (I recently did their latest album design). I was introduced to the world of unsigned music (we had so much fun during these years, it was ridiculous) and it's still a world I am involved in. Support your local music!

I started my art classes in my third year of college and it only took enrolling in a photography course for me to rediscover that "love" again. It was the same love I felt when first discovering drawing. The first time I made a good print in the darkroom (it took a few crappy results first), I was hooked. I had found my second love for a medium. I declared my area of study to be Photography and began spending hours in the darkroom. I soon also discovered Photoshop, which opened my eyes to limitless options in illustrating and photography. I left the darkroom behind to begin working digitally and haven't really looked back since.

I graduated from college with the same feeling I had after high school. A feeling of listlessness and no direction. I was smarter, better equipped, and more prepared, but still lacked a path to follow. Things were supposed to start happening now. Sadly, they didn't. Gerard Way once said something to effect of "there is nothing so close to death as being in your twenties and having no direction." This is a very true statement. Self-doubt roars like a storm within you. You feel like a failure who is destined to make pizzas his whole life. I felt like I was sleeping through life. Hell, I still feel like that...

Later, I got a job as a graphic designer with a magazine publisher. What at first seemed like a shining opportunity soon devolved into working with a dick of a senior designer and generally dreading going to work. The stint lasted about nine months, long enough to get some real experience at working with a big workload (3 monthly publications, two designers, you do the math) and learn how office politics work. After leaving there, I floated a little while...

I did a lot of freelancing for local bands and continued educating myself in the ways of graphic design...

Until coming to the job I am at now. I work for a financial retirement company as the "Director of Graphics and Marketing." A bullshit title from a bullshit company. I'm a graphic designer. I don't direct shit. I hate my job. I work for a senile old crone who is, hands down, the nastiest and most abusive person I have ever met in my life (she sent a cease and desist letter to her mother to stop calling her, I shit you not). She treats people like they are her playthings, her slaves to do her bidding. You might say, "Lebowski, surely you exaggerate!" I assure you, I do not. I'm going to relish the day that I quit here. Every foul thing I've ever wanted to say will pour out and I'm sure the world will seem brighter and happier once I am through.

But hey, it's a paycheck. And I get to work with Photoshop all day. So there's that.

You know, I often make a joke that, after putting down my life story here, seems even more true: "I was born an illustrator, bred to be a photographer, and settled as a designer." Hah!

So I think that about covers it. Oh, and I live in an apartment with my girlfriend Alison, our dog Winston (a Pekingnese/Pomeranian mix), and our roommate Beefie (if you ever meet him, you'll know). I play a lot of online poker. And I have high cholesterol.

Congratulations on making it this far, dear reader. I appreciate you taking the time to get to know me. I'll keep this journal updated and hopefully not all the entries will be this long. Then again...