It would seem I'm one of those people who march to a different drum, or I don't march at all. I think outside of the box because I never could seem to find that stupid box in the first place. I sometimes have a different, some would say warped, perspective on life and all that it entails. I've been called an incurable smartass, sarcastic, funny, outspoken, opinionated, even flaky. But I just gotta say what I've gotta say. I can't help myself. I wish there were more hours in the day to impart to the world (or anyone willing to listen) what is bubbling up inside of me. But until some unknown (to me) wealthy relative dies, or the Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol shows up at my door I'm forced to spend a good part of my days chasing those oh so elusive dollars.
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