I'm Mike. Some call me Michael. I used to think being called Mike abbreviated me as a person. But I've come to realize after obtaining two Bachelor of Science degrees within the scope of three years (161 hours), I have abbreviated myself more than anyone ever could by calling me Mike.
I'm a musician, or at least I fake it. The only conventional thing I haven't tried to fake it on is Oboe. And you could also say the Viola and English Horn.
Likewise, I've faked a lot of things in my life. And I've become equally accustomed to being punched in the face and stabbed in the back. And even when I haven't been, I often like to think I have anyway. It's not quite like feeling sorry for myself as it is putting my emotions into an outward and infinately more tangible and workable form.
I'm about to embark on "Grad School," a misnomer in the fact that I had already graduated from many things unofficially, and high school officially, before my enrollment as the also ineptly titled "undergraduate." Am I looking forward to it? The question I'd have to ask is should I be. Most people go through their lives questioning whether or not they will succeed in their careers. Perhaps it's a lack of humility or something indicative of even less character, but I'm not worried about my career. It will be as successful as I want it to be.
My personal life is another story, one which unfolds here...