Friday, October 30, 2009
Floaters
Drowned people have a smell, according to my mom. Her office is on the same floor as the morgue so whenever they have a person who had drowned, the people on her floor can smell the body. She calls them floaters. I am intrigued, bothered, and grossed out all at the same time.
Monday, October 19, 2009
My Skeleton, The Pimp
On September 29Th I was informed that we would be decorating for the glorious holiday of Halloween, one of my personal favorites. But, excuse me, sir, there is a problem. Its September. Or was. It was September when this story began. Stay with me, friend(s).
So since September 29Th, our house has been decorated with the mass of crazy decor that takes up its own personal chunk of our garage. The screaming bust that sits on the hall table, the spider that falls when to clap you hands, the vials and bottles of spooky potions, a parade of pumpkins, and skeletons on my brother and my doors. They are reversible, the skeletons, with a happy face on one side, see left and a scary face on the other. I like the happy face, as well as my brother, but my mom believes there should be diversity, so she keeps flipping my Skelly. But recently, I noticed something new of my friend that I didn't notice before.
He has testicles. Two orbs hanging below his pelvis. All I have to say is, "Why? Why does my skeleton have testicles." But really, who puts balls on a skeleton? They don't even have any! It's quite bothersome.
Now onto another note, one which doesn't conclude in undead reproductive organs, I have signed up for the word of the day to expand my vocabulary. I haven't used any of them yet.
So this is what is going on in my tiny little private schooled world of hot chocolate and college applications.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
The Great American Past Time
Although this is supposed to be baseball, it has unofficially become and official change. It is now the glorious sport of football.
Who doesn't like a sport that becomes a personality and a way of thinking? Because that's what this game has become. A way of life, starting with childhood. And not only does the child change, but the parent changes as well. A child will grasp the ball in his tiny hands after a pass has been thrown and fumble. Incomplete. The child will hang his head as the parent screams from the sidelines that they can do better, as if the rest of their life depended on keeping a firm hold on a ball out of your reach. The child will hang his head and fight back tears because he feels that he has let down his team, coaches, and worst of all, his parent.
No parent should act like this. Since Wyatt has begun football this year, I have seen the same parent scream from the sideline, attempting to direct the game, as if the coaches don't know what they are doing. This man is fat, bald, and obviously into the game, despite the players being ten years old. I assume this miserable human being is trying to capture something from his past through his young child. Last game I witnessed this man's son yanking off his pads in a fit of rage and disappointment after a losing game.
No child should be this upset over something so minuscule and tiny. Over a peewee football game. His father is doing him no favors by being a tool.
I loathe this mess of a past time.
Who doesn't like a sport that becomes a personality and a way of thinking? Because that's what this game has become. A way of life, starting with childhood. And not only does the child change, but the parent changes as well. A child will grasp the ball in his tiny hands after a pass has been thrown and fumble. Incomplete. The child will hang his head as the parent screams from the sidelines that they can do better, as if the rest of their life depended on keeping a firm hold on a ball out of your reach. The child will hang his head and fight back tears because he feels that he has let down his team, coaches, and worst of all, his parent.
No parent should act like this. Since Wyatt has begun football this year, I have seen the same parent scream from the sideline, attempting to direct the game, as if the coaches don't know what they are doing. This man is fat, bald, and obviously into the game, despite the players being ten years old. I assume this miserable human being is trying to capture something from his past through his young child. Last game I witnessed this man's son yanking off his pads in a fit of rage and disappointment after a losing game.
No child should be this upset over something so minuscule and tiny. Over a peewee football game. His father is doing him no favors by being a tool.
I loathe this mess of a past time.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Smoke Rings
I want to smoke.
But not be a smoker.
I have this idea of a steriotypical independant author, although I know it is completly unrealistic. So then I guess its not a steriotypical writer, but a strange image from a creative corner of my mind.
He is moody with messy hair and a cigarette dangling between his lips. He his hunched over a typewriter in his loft in a cabin in the woods, a desk lamp to his left being the only light in the room. His brow is slightly furrowed as he struggles to capture a scene.
I want to be just like that. The cigarette, the loft, the desk lamp, the cabin. But of course I would leave the cigarettes and bad attitude behind for they are both bad habits.
But not be a smoker.
I have this idea of a steriotypical independant author, although I know it is completly unrealistic. So then I guess its not a steriotypical writer, but a strange image from a creative corner of my mind.
He is moody with messy hair and a cigarette dangling between his lips. He his hunched over a typewriter in his loft in a cabin in the woods, a desk lamp to his left being the only light in the room. His brow is slightly furrowed as he struggles to capture a scene.
I want to be just like that. The cigarette, the loft, the desk lamp, the cabin. But of course I would leave the cigarettes and bad attitude behind for they are both bad habits.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
The Lost Posters
There has been lost posters stuck on the signs throughout my neighborhood. A person's cat went missing.
I found myself in the inspiration section in Barnes and Noble tonight. A spur of the moment book craving brought me there.
I saw the cat in the middle of the road on the way home. Tire tracks through it.
I found a book. Not the one I was looking for, but a book alll the same.
I found a different book on the same topic and the cat in a different state.
I found myself in the inspiration section in Barnes and Noble tonight. A spur of the moment book craving brought me there.
I saw the cat in the middle of the road on the way home. Tire tracks through it.
I found a book. Not the one I was looking for, but a book alll the same.
I found a different book on the same topic and the cat in a different state.
Friday, September 4, 2009
What I Want.
I want a camera. A nice one, but not too expensive. If the thing cost too much money, I won't know how to use it and it would be a waste. I'd also be too scared that I was going to drop it. But you know, I want a sensible camera. One with different settings and a lens that zooms far away and stuff.
I know I'm not being very specific, but its late and I'm tired.
G'night.
I know I'm not being very specific, but its late and I'm tired.
G'night.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Raining in Paradise
Yesterday I had the pleasure of spending another day alone downtown, but this time I was determined to not spend so much money. I am rapidly going broke.
So first I made the trek, on foot, to East Bay Meeting House to buy a raspberry Italian soda and read At the End of the Alphabet. On the way there an old black woman with a limp approached me with a pile of pamplets and shoved two at me and shouted, "Come to Paradise!" I thought Paradise was a resturante until the woman was gone and the pamplets professed Jehovah Witness beliefs. I felt tricked.
Upon arrival I gave my order to a chubby college girl with multi-colored curls, to which she replied, "Si, amigo." I found her obnoxious. Soon after I sat down a kid started throwing a fit, so I left.
And what better place to go when your broke than the library?
Nowhere, that's where.
I didn't feel like going Nowhere, so I went to the library. I got some books and left. Outside the door I felt what I had been dreading. A rain drop. So I sprint down Calhoun, bent for the Francis Marion Starbucks. Its a funny thing how people in your same possision like to smile and nod at you.
In the Starbucks I dropped my book bag by a chair that was trying to be way too artsy and attempted to dry off with paper towels in the bathroom.
Back at artsy chair I began reading At the End of the Alphabet again when I noticed a woman in a red dress trying to dry her legs with a paper towel. She seemed to be in her early forties with long black hair pulled up in a loose bun.
Feeling social, I offered, "You get caught by the rain, too?"
"Well, kind of," she said in a northern accent with a light smoker's rasp. "I had an umbrella but my shoes the water all over my legs. Looks like its letting up now, though." She continued to wipe the legs and shoes. "Jesus," she laughed, drying herself. "Take it easy," she said, standing to leave.
"You, too."
So first I made the trek, on foot, to East Bay Meeting House to buy a raspberry Italian soda and read At the End of the Alphabet. On the way there an old black woman with a limp approached me with a pile of pamplets and shoved two at me and shouted, "Come to Paradise!" I thought Paradise was a resturante until the woman was gone and the pamplets professed Jehovah Witness beliefs. I felt tricked.
Upon arrival I gave my order to a chubby college girl with multi-colored curls, to which she replied, "Si, amigo." I found her obnoxious. Soon after I sat down a kid started throwing a fit, so I left.
And what better place to go when your broke than the library?
Nowhere, that's where.
I didn't feel like going Nowhere, so I went to the library. I got some books and left. Outside the door I felt what I had been dreading. A rain drop. So I sprint down Calhoun, bent for the Francis Marion Starbucks. Its a funny thing how people in your same possision like to smile and nod at you.
In the Starbucks I dropped my book bag by a chair that was trying to be way too artsy and attempted to dry off with paper towels in the bathroom.
Back at artsy chair I began reading At the End of the Alphabet again when I noticed a woman in a red dress trying to dry her legs with a paper towel. She seemed to be in her early forties with long black hair pulled up in a loose bun.
Feeling social, I offered, "You get caught by the rain, too?"
"Well, kind of," she said in a northern accent with a light smoker's rasp. "I had an umbrella but my shoes the water all over my legs. Looks like its letting up now, though." She continued to wipe the legs and shoes. "Jesus," she laughed, drying herself. "Take it easy," she said, standing to leave.
"You, too."
Thursday, August 27, 2009
The End of the Alphabet
I had to check my brother's homework today and one of the questions was, "Which of the following is a squared number." He chose the correct answer, which was a box of dots moving five across and five down. The next problem was, "Explain your answer." He wrote, because the dots make a square.
I found it humorous.
After checking homework, I went to get a hair cut to find that Mrs. Haircutter had a herniated disk and needs surgery or she'll go paralized.
Also, I've started a new book, The End of the Alphabet by CS Richardson. In it, a married couple go on a series of vacations with each destination begining with each letter after discovering the husband, Ambrose (love that name), has one month to live.
Thats whats happened. Boring, but such is life.
I found it humorous.
After checking homework, I went to get a hair cut to find that Mrs. Haircutter had a herniated disk and needs surgery or she'll go paralized.
Also, I've started a new book, The End of the Alphabet by CS Richardson. In it, a married couple go on a series of vacations with each destination begining with each letter after discovering the husband, Ambrose (love that name), has one month to live.
Thats whats happened. Boring, but such is life.
Monday, August 24, 2009
The Blue Bicycle
A privilege of being a senior is being able to leave school at eleven forty seven everyday (except Thursday, I have chapel). But there lies a hindrance within my dismissal time. I can't drive.
So today Mom picked me up, but since she didn't have time to drive me all the way home and and go back to work, she dropped me off on the corner of King and Calhoun. She was a nervous wreck. I was ecstatic. I had never spent a moment downtown by myself. The possibilities were endless. With three hours to waste, I had time.
I actually had three hours where time meant absolutly nothing.
I ate at Momma Kims to start, then I ventured to a place that has changed my life forever.
The Blue Bicycle.
The Blue Bicycle is a small used book store where you can get just about anything. The books had that bitter old smell that I love and there was nothing but wall to wall books. I was like a kid at a candy store. I spent an hour, but limited myself to a twenty five dollar budget to keep myself in check. I have to do that in book stores. I bought Return to Laughter, 5000 Quotations for Every Occation, and Utopia. Twenty three fifty. And to top off an amazing time, the indie chick at the counter was listening to Sufjan Stevens.
I still had a pretty piece of time, so I walked to Planet Smoothie, American Appreal (for the first and last time), and a tiny art store to get more charcoal pencils and a charcoal shader. I tried the library, but I couldn't pay off mmy twenty two dollar late fee with a card, so no books were checked out. I made a run by Starbucks, then met up with Ms. Ravenel.
It was a good day.
So today Mom picked me up, but since she didn't have time to drive me all the way home and and go back to work, she dropped me off on the corner of King and Calhoun. She was a nervous wreck. I was ecstatic. I had never spent a moment downtown by myself. The possibilities were endless. With three hours to waste, I had time.
I actually had three hours where time meant absolutly nothing.
I ate at Momma Kims to start, then I ventured to a place that has changed my life forever.
The Blue Bicycle.
The Blue Bicycle is a small used book store where you can get just about anything. The books had that bitter old smell that I love and there was nothing but wall to wall books. I was like a kid at a candy store. I spent an hour, but limited myself to a twenty five dollar budget to keep myself in check. I have to do that in book stores. I bought Return to Laughter, 5000 Quotations for Every Occation, and Utopia. Twenty three fifty. And to top off an amazing time, the indie chick at the counter was listening to Sufjan Stevens.
I still had a pretty piece of time, so I walked to Planet Smoothie, American Appreal (for the first and last time), and a tiny art store to get more charcoal pencils and a charcoal shader. I tried the library, but I couldn't pay off mmy twenty two dollar late fee with a card, so no books were checked out. I made a run by Starbucks, then met up with Ms. Ravenel.
It was a good day.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The Begining of the End
So senior year has officially begun as of Friday and I can not get over how great school is. I have four classes (british lit, econ, yearbook, and philosophy) so I get to leave at eleven forty seven everyday.
How great is that.
The only problem with that seems to be the whole lunch situation. Everyday so far friends have gone out to eat, and I have joined them two of the three. This will cause two things; I shall be fat and broke come Christmas.
But if lunch is my biggest worry, I think I am doing quite well.
How great is that.
The only problem with that seems to be the whole lunch situation. Everyday so far friends have gone out to eat, and I have joined them two of the three. This will cause two things; I shall be fat and broke come Christmas.
But if lunch is my biggest worry, I think I am doing quite well.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Glasses, Fungus (Or is it Fungi?), and the Beautiful Songwriter Meiko
So today I had my eye exam and discovered that I am near sighted and have a astigmatism. I picked out a pair of glasses, (half rimmed, square lenses) and they should be in tomorrow or Monday. I can hardly wait. Most people dread getting glasses, but I am very excited. Since I was a child I have been jealous of those lucky enough to have impaired vision. Also, I like how glasses look on my face. I remember when I was in fourth grade and Ali Ravenel officially became my first friend to have glasses and I thought, 'Wow, I want some.' Now I get them! Big WOO!
After my eye appointment I went to church and painted the back drop for VBS with my youth group. At one point I went to wash the green paint out of the brushes and it turned my hands and fingernails a rich dark green. The more I scrubbed the more I realized that this stuff wasn't coming off. When I came home, Dad poured paint thinner on my hands. All the paint came of, except for under my nails. I have clipped them, filed them, and picked at them to find that not all of it would come off. And with driver's ed tomorrow, I am scared that someone is going to see my hideous splotches of green and think, 'Holy hell! He's got the fungus!' I know I am being a complete spaz and I know that the paint isn't at all noticable, but this is how my mind works.
Turns out Dad isn't getting transfered. So every third day he must make the trek to James Island.
I now sit in bed sipping lemon water and listening to Meiko. If you haven't heard of her, look her up right when you are done reading this because she is amazing.
After my eye appointment I went to church and painted the back drop for VBS with my youth group. At one point I went to wash the green paint out of the brushes and it turned my hands and fingernails a rich dark green. The more I scrubbed the more I realized that this stuff wasn't coming off. When I came home, Dad poured paint thinner on my hands. All the paint came of, except for under my nails. I have clipped them, filed them, and picked at them to find that not all of it would come off. And with driver's ed tomorrow, I am scared that someone is going to see my hideous splotches of green and think, 'Holy hell! He's got the fungus!' I know I am being a complete spaz and I know that the paint isn't at all noticable, but this is how my mind works.
Turns out Dad isn't getting transfered. So every third day he must make the trek to James Island.
I now sit in bed sipping lemon water and listening to Meiko. If you haven't heard of her, look her up right when you are done reading this because she is amazing.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Event of the Uneventful
Today is Tuesday, and you know what that means? BIG BROTHER comes on tonight.
Still no word on whether my dad is getting transferred. I just answered the phone and it was the chief. I got excited, but it wasn't about the transfer.
On happier news, I found my Amy Whinehouse CD today. It was between two books on my shelf, which I rearranged today. In the process a shelf gave loose, taking another shelf with it and about forty books and countless Rolling Stones magazines spilled out onto the floor.
Speaking of books, I am currently reading a Christian fiction for my summer reading. It is called Return Policy. It chronicles three unrelated people through their everyday lives, their paths sometimes crossing here and there. There is a lot of mystery to it, so the first quarter of it was hard to get into, but its getting deeper into the plots and becoming very interesting. It has a lot of content that Christian fiction typically doesn't have. There is a English teacher that pretends to be gay and a priest falsly convicted of rape.
I love it.
Still no word on whether my dad is getting transferred. I just answered the phone and it was the chief. I got excited, but it wasn't about the transfer.
On happier news, I found my Amy Whinehouse CD today. It was between two books on my shelf, which I rearranged today. In the process a shelf gave loose, taking another shelf with it and about forty books and countless Rolling Stones magazines spilled out onto the floor.
Speaking of books, I am currently reading a Christian fiction for my summer reading. It is called Return Policy. It chronicles three unrelated people through their everyday lives, their paths sometimes crossing here and there. There is a lot of mystery to it, so the first quarter of it was hard to get into, but its getting deeper into the plots and becoming very interesting. It has a lot of content that Christian fiction typically doesn't have. There is a English teacher that pretends to be gay and a priest falsly convicted of rape.
I love it.
Monday, July 20, 2009
The Week Ahead
This week two very big things are happening. I am going to get glasses and I am going to drivers ed.
Thursday is eye exam day. A couple months ago I realized that my sight was going. First I couldn't read the poster in Outback that was maybe six feet away. Soon after, while I was at the picnic that I told you about a few post ago, a friend of mine was waving too me, but I didn't know who she was. Couldn't make out her face. A few weeks ago I couldn't see the menu on the On Demand feature. I had to squint and strain to see what it said. All of course there have been other instances, but these are the three major signs that made me realize, I need glasses.
Then Friday I go to 911 Driving classes from 8:30 to 4:30. That's long than school. During this time I figured I'd spend about an hour or so in the classroom and then I'd get to drive.
No.
Turns out, it is all classroom time. Eight hours in a classroom with cops. Big fun...
On another note, my dad has put in to transfer from the fire station on James Island to the on five minutes from our house. I am really indifferent as to where he goes, I just don't want him to get a captain that he doesn't like. God knows there are plenty of a-holes in the fire department and if my father were to get one of those he would probably spend a lot of time in a not so pleasant mood.
I'll keep you posted on all three of these happenings.
Thursday is eye exam day. A couple months ago I realized that my sight was going. First I couldn't read the poster in Outback that was maybe six feet away. Soon after, while I was at the picnic that I told you about a few post ago, a friend of mine was waving too me, but I didn't know who she was. Couldn't make out her face. A few weeks ago I couldn't see the menu on the On Demand feature. I had to squint and strain to see what it said. All of course there have been other instances, but these are the three major signs that made me realize, I need glasses.
Then Friday I go to 911 Driving classes from 8:30 to 4:30. That's long than school. During this time I figured I'd spend about an hour or so in the classroom and then I'd get to drive.
No.
Turns out, it is all classroom time. Eight hours in a classroom with cops. Big fun...
On another note, my dad has put in to transfer from the fire station on James Island to the on five minutes from our house. I am really indifferent as to where he goes, I just don't want him to get a captain that he doesn't like. God knows there are plenty of a-holes in the fire department and if my father were to get one of those he would probably spend a lot of time in a not so pleasant mood.
I'll keep you posted on all three of these happenings.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
A Goodbye
The Salvation Army is not just a church but a organization that reaches out to those less fortunate in the community. In the past years, probably since I was five of six, I have been involved with both aspects of the SA and during that time I've seen my share of people come and go from our church on their way through the ranks modeled after military positions.
The preachers and elders are refereed to as 'officers' and are moved about every five years to different churches so that they may help the church grow and the church can do the same for them.
About five weeks ago, our preachers, or officers, to keep with the lingo, moved to a Salvation Army in North Carolina and we received new ones. From where, I don't know.
Today, the assistant officer at our church spent her last Sunday with us before going to Texas. I have a feeling that I will miss her more that our main officers. She was much more personal and enthusiastic.
But being in this church with such an arrangement has taught me one thing, that people come and go and there isn't much you can do about it. I've learned to never get too attached to people, outside of family and close friends, of course, because chances are they will eventually go away in some way or another.
The preachers and elders are refereed to as 'officers' and are moved about every five years to different churches so that they may help the church grow and the church can do the same for them.
About five weeks ago, our preachers, or officers, to keep with the lingo, moved to a Salvation Army in North Carolina and we received new ones. From where, I don't know.
Today, the assistant officer at our church spent her last Sunday with us before going to Texas. I have a feeling that I will miss her more that our main officers. She was much more personal and enthusiastic.
But being in this church with such an arrangement has taught me one thing, that people come and go and there isn't much you can do about it. I've learned to never get too attached to people, outside of family and close friends, of course, because chances are they will eventually go away in some way or another.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
A Little Craving
I am craving a reader. Just one, its all I wish for.
Santa: What do you want for Christmas, little boy.
Little Boy aka Bobby Baldwin: A reader.
Enjoy that creepy image of me sitting on HoHo's lap while I digress.
Considering I have no reader, no one will see that and no one with experience my disgustingly morbid sense of humor.
I think the only people who have really experienced how morbid I can be are my creatiive writing teacher and a the girl that sits behind me during that class. My teacher is forced to read the scraps of paper I hand in displaying morbid stories of machines that make women beautiful and a creature with wings made of severed hands. What she doesn't realize is that these terrible back-slash briliant ideas are born from her writing prompts, which means it is her fault.
The girl that sits behind me just likes to read what I write before we turn our papers in. I enjoy reading her's also.
Its strange I speak of this in the present considering creative writing is now the past and I will not have the class again. I know I am going to miss it, but I found my silver lining. I get to take photography next year!
Santa: What do you want for Christmas, little boy.
Little Boy aka Bobby Baldwin: A reader.
Enjoy that creepy image of me sitting on HoHo's lap while I digress.
Considering I have no reader, no one will see that and no one with experience my disgustingly morbid sense of humor.
I think the only people who have really experienced how morbid I can be are my creatiive writing teacher and a the girl that sits behind me during that class. My teacher is forced to read the scraps of paper I hand in displaying morbid stories of machines that make women beautiful and a creature with wings made of severed hands. What she doesn't realize is that these terrible back-slash briliant ideas are born from her writing prompts, which means it is her fault.
The girl that sits behind me just likes to read what I write before we turn our papers in. I enjoy reading her's also.
Its strange I speak of this in the present considering creative writing is now the past and I will not have the class again. I know I am going to miss it, but I found my silver lining. I get to take photography next year!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Summer Days
As the humid South Carolina summer rolls in from where ever summer rolls in from, the days begin to blend together and the dates become nonexistent. The only way I manage to know what day it is it what comes on the tele at night. Like tonight I know Big Brother comes on tonight, so its Thursday and tomorrow Family Guy doesn't come on, so its Friday. The weekend is easy to spot, but come Monday I am typically lost again, but I see that All My Children is not on, so I am immediatly set straight. Tuesday, Big Brother again. And the glorious think is on Wednesday, nothing comes on, so I can tell it apart from the rest of the week.
Now that you see how my mind truely works, you may find that I am a truely complex creature to a simple point.
Now that you see how my mind truely works, you may find that I am a truely complex creature to a simple point.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Picnic
Tomorrow there is a picinc in remeberance of the nine firee fighters that died in the Sofa Super Store fire. I am selling shirts there.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Don John
Last night I went to see Don John with REY. It was an amazing show, I just didn't know there where live musicals that would go the far sexually. Afterwards we went to eat at Simmets. Our waitress wasn't that great and they didn't have sweet tea, but the food was great. But if it is a southern resturante, it should have sweet tea, shouldn't it?
Saturday, June 6, 2009
The SAT: Part Dos
I did it. I am done. I took the SAT today and I hope I never have to take it again. It was the most miserable five hours I have had in the past month, second to the ten hour drive to Fort Lauderdale in April.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The SAT
So today I began studying for my SAT to take the test on Saturday. Ha ha, leave it to me to procrastinate until the very last minute.
So to start off I went over US History and Literature and took the sample test, each being an hour long. The history test was 90 questions and the literature was 61. When I was done, I figured my scores on the two test and went into a full on panic. Mc Donalds, here I come.
So after throwing a fit, planning my life as a non-college gradute, and eating myself sick, I realized I was being rediculous. My scores weren't that low and I should have no problem getting in to USC or College of Charleston.
I am such a spaz.
So to start off I went over US History and Literature and took the sample test, each being an hour long. The history test was 90 questions and the literature was 61. When I was done, I figured my scores on the two test and went into a full on panic. Mc Donalds, here I come.
So after throwing a fit, planning my life as a non-college gradute, and eating myself sick, I realized I was being rediculous. My scores weren't that low and I should have no problem getting in to USC or College of Charleston.
I am such a spaz.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
To Begin
I guess I can begin my blog by telling a little about myself. Although I know you should never start a story off with "My name is...," I may just do it anyway. My name is Bobby. I was born and raise in beautiful Charleston, South Carolina. There really isn't much to say, considering I am sheltered as they come. So if you are going to take time out of your busy schedule then I more that appreciate you and thank you for finding me interesting.
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