I'm an idealist and a dreamer.

In the past several years I've made a conscious effort to see the good in everyone and ignore their flaws. This can be quite difficult especially when looking in the mirror.

We writers are a precarious lot. We harvest an unholy self-righteousness in the belief our opinions are correct and should be shared with as many people as possible while secretly we are crumbling inside from our vacillation and emotional instability. Writers need lots of hugs.

I have dreams. Sometimes they suck. Sometimes I never want to wake up. Sometimes I'm being chased by a walrus who's really Wilford Brimley in disguise riding a mime down the Mississippi River who corners me in my 3rd grade classroom while my former boss reads Atlas Shrugged to a pack of my ex-girlfriends.

Is that normal?

It doesn't matter because in the end they all come true in some freaked out way.

I also have waking dreams. I dream of finding my soul mate - a creative girl who makes me laugh as I lay next to her every night and drown in the depth of her eyes. I dream of having children, Nader for the boy and Zenith for the girl, who will teach what life is truly about. I dream of doing something that I love each and everyday, earning enough money to support my future gorgeous wife and our way-too-smart-for-their-own-good children.

Creating is what I love to do everyday. So far I'm not earning anything by it but I'm an idealist and a dreamer.