Raised on Star Wars, cultivated by pop culture and shimmed with classic rock, I used to have pretty much the same outlook on life as every other child of the 80s. I had five-year plans designed to earn me a flying car. That styling ride would take me to work at a job I loved. I'd work there for 35 to 40 years and retire. It was the American Dream sold to me by the Baby Boomers who bought it from the Greatest Generation before them.

It turns out, that all might have been a giant Ponzi Scheme.

Fortunately influences like Pearl Jam, John Hughes, David Letterman, Calvin and Hobbes, Fletch, Ben Folds, Lou Piniella, Ford Prefect, SportsCenter, Norm MacDonald and Canada were there to get me through my rude awakening. While I am still very loyal at heart, I believe I've adapted well to the ronin nature of life after the Bush Years.

I became an avid roadtripper, driving across North America whenever time and gas prices permitted. (There's something about the open road that an airplane just doesn't provide. Plus, it's hard to play AM radio roulette at 30,000 feet.) My travels reaffirmed my love for the Pacific Northwest. I'll defend my home like some people will fight for New York, Chicago and Los Angeles.

In some ways I am just like everyone else. I resist the need to floss daily. I prefer a reasonable five o'clock shadow to maintaining a clean shave. And, as defined by the literati, I watch more TV than is acceptable. (I collect unread books like Norman Bates accumulates creepy taxidermy.) But in the end, I pride myself on putting both pants legs on at the same time. I guess that's the only thing that separates me from the rest of you savages.

Ultimately I am a behind the scenes player. Even though I hold my own in the spotlight, I prefer pulling the strings as the man behind the curtain. My passions include writing, making and watching movies, hockey, baseball, football, poker, appreciating stand-up comedy and food. This is the place where all of it comes together.