While popular fiction believes me to be a 42 year old, freelance artist and aspiring novelist with a Bachelor of Arts, I am, in fact, a cosmically empowered, time travelling, tiger striped champion of love and justice (Some Assembly Required — Fuku Not Included). Depicted here in my typical human disguise (if you can call that human), citizens are warned that I am considered an oddity and am prone to threatening bystanders with Sailor Moon trinkets, demonic chipmunks, and the magical necktie of doom. The general public is advised to avoid me at all costs and if confronted, should cut a small hole in the side of reality, duck through, and pull the hole in afterwards.

As these things tend to happen, I was born. Now, I’ll take a moment to wait while you pick yourself up off the floor and get over your sense of shock…

History tells us that it was a dark Tuesday morning somewhere in the lower regions of Hell, but since I was born in southern California, that’s fairly unimportant. But, it was Tuesday none-the-less, and my mother had settled into a hearty round of labor without medication. Hour dragged on into hour until at last it was lunch and the family dispersed to the watering hole to feed. It was then that I decided to make my appearance– after all, who was I to pass up a chance at lunch?

Fourteen years passed by with me scarcely taking a second look. I tend to call these my blank slate years. My mother comes along now and then and fills in a blank with some random, embarassing tale of my youth and for the most part, I let her. It gives her something to do and keeps her out of trouble. Besides, it’s not like I’m doing anything with that particular time period or anything– at least, not until I decide to go back and alter the flow of history. But the powers that be tend to frown on that.

Since then, I’ve kept myself busy with letting the voices in my head take turns at the keyboard. Fortunately, none of them are particularly sado-masochistic, so I’ve been relatively unharmed by their aimless ramblings.

With the voices as my muses, I started writing. Mind you, that resulted in mostly teen-aged, angst ridden, hormonal diatribes that equated to little more than plotless tripe. Fortunately, I’ve outgrown that stage… at least, I think I have. And then there was the art, which started out with comic books, then slightly more realistic, and finally anime, with a couple furries thrown in for flavor.