Peanut butter toast and dinosaurs wreaking havoc over Gotham City go together just like, well, peanut butter toast and dinosaurs wreaking havoc over Gotham City. It's an interesting combination. Maybe a little childish, definitely eclectic, and just vaguely existential. It's the sort of feeling you get when you've been dry and logical for so long, you've forgotten how to love. It isn't just because of the homoerotic subtext between the two closest people to every appear in society-critiquing fiction. No it's something more. It's moreover a metaphor for life, that guy on the chair who asks you how you feel, and maybe the reason why we've resorted to assigning numbers to the most discussed question by every sentient being.

Fanfiction is, at its best, an extension of the every-going story of life, but they are obligated to carry a risk. Interpretations are personal and as different as mauve and chartreuse. That doesn't mean, however, one can't paint a bedroom room mauve with chartreuse polka-dots. Sometimes the weirdest combinations are the best. Other times, however, maybe we should just stick to earth tones. Being down-to earth is like respecting a plot. We can twist it and turn it, but as soon as we try to cover that dirt with shiny gold varnish, it just looks plain tacky.

My philosophy is that of two theories: (1) No one will like a story if they can't relate, no matter how witty, cheese-filled, cheese-less, eclectic, deep, or shallow and (2) bananas taste the best on peanut butter toast.

OHHH, you wanted to know about me?

Well, now that you mention it.

I'm a goofball. I'm too damn intellectual for my own good, but put me on a stage, and I'll start Singing in the Rain just for you. I'm the kind of person who goes to Plato's Closet only to come home and swifty chop off the designer labels. I bought that vest because it was cheap and looked like 70's barfed on it, not because it's brand name. Earth tones are where I'm at, but I can't resist a decent rainbow. I fail at being a nerd, even though I call myself one, and I'll never fit it. I fall somewhere between nowhere and somewhere, only to come out when you throw a piece of paper at me and force me to write with my non-dominant hand. I'm not psychotic, I'm just so weird that I end up being normal. It's like the political spectrum, you know? As a wise bumper-sticker once told me, Fascism is just Capitalism in decay. History might be just a little more corrupted than The Sims 2's neighborhood files, but such is life... until I invent that time machine.