Time passes quickly for me, as a glorious series of rest stops on the tour bus of life. My bank accounts accrue interest at a special rate two hundredths of a percent above prime. My feet sometimes hum sad country songs to one another, and my hands applaud wildly.
I live a positive life, attracting static cling wherever I go. Electricity comes at my beckon call and magnets hate me. I think constantly about why oranges are called oranges but why lemons aren't called yellows, or limes, greens. I yearn for days when peace sells, and nobody's flying.
I have won several minor awards, several major annoyances, and several splitting headaches. My impression of Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel is first rate. I frequently rent my brain to several charitable organizations. I worship the potato as a minor deity and cannot give up red meat.
I recently completed MANY years of graduate education, culminating in the completion of an advanced degree. I do not necessarily view this achievement as certifying that I know anything in particular, except perhaps how to be insane enough and stubborn enough to climb to the summit of a personal Everest.