Lets see. About me... I suck at this stuff. Because I think to much to put my finger on who I am. I've been called just about everything there is to call a person and everyone that has called me those things have actually ment it. To start I guess a big part of me is explained in Shawshank Redemption by Andy.

"There are really only two types of men in the world when it comes to bad trouble," Andy said, cupping a match between his hands and lighting a cigarette. "Suppose there was a house full of rare paintings and sculptures and fine old antiques, Red? And suppose the guy who owned the house heard that there was a monster of a hurricane headed right at it. One of those two kinds of men just hopes for the best. The hurricane will change course, he says to himself. No right-thinking hurricane would ever dare wipe out all these Rembrandts, my two Degas horses, my Jackons Pollocks and my Paul Klees. Furthermore, God wouldn't allow it. And if worst comes to worst, they're insured. That's one sort of man. The other sort just assumes that hurricane is going to tear right through the middle of his house. If the weather bureau says the hurricane just changed course, this guy assumes it'll change back in order to put his house on ground zero again. This second type of guy knows there's no harm in hoping for the best as long as you're prepared for the worst."

Ya, I'm a little paranoid bastard that goes into every situation preparing for the worst, expecting the worst, but some how still comes out pretty damned good... Luck runs out though.