Herbert Goddfreys: My Fictional Character is Born.

“Oh shit!” the profanity excitedly popped into my mind. “Has the deadline to apply to grad school passed already?” my heart reminded me while occupying my throat.

I was so confident that I’d get in to this one particular school, even with my mediocre GRE scores, that I’d only planned on applying there and nowhere else.  So in a hurried and haphazard fashion, I went online to the school’s website, downloaded everything necessary to apply, read nothing I needed to read, and began to fill out the required forms.

I could have never known what was in store for me over the next several years.

And this is me, Herbert Goddfreys: an impulsive lubberly character that is so confident in my un-awkwardness that I actually believe I’m cool.  I’m a 30 something man of about 1.8034 meters (give or take .0001 meters), a slender build with a new-born beer-gut and a physique that screams, “I used to work out.”

I wear the same thing every day – an ill-fitting, drab green button down and a pair of tight fitting but worn Levi’s with cowboy boots.  In fact, I have a closet full of these outfits and I boast about never having to decide what to wear.  The flipside, of course, is that people just think I wear the same dirty clothes day after day.

I’m a staunch disbeliever of people.  I veridically believe that most of what people say is either an outright lie, or some half-truth interwoven with enough lie so that people never have to reveal to anyone who they really are.

I focus on the lies as much as I focus on how people seem to have to live them in order to enjoy most social events.   This makes me quite socially blunderous and odious and, at times, a recluse.  Add my conceit to the mix, and it’s a miracle that anyone ever enjoys my company.

I do have some redeeming qualities however.  As bad as it is for my ego, people tell me I’m intelligent.  I think abstractly and see the big picture.

I can pull humor out of mundane situations.  It’s easy to make people laugh when they’re bored out of their minds.  Of course my jokes are usually abstract and off-beat.

I also have a large capacity to retain information, not any information that is particularly useful, but information nonetheless.  I’m physically and mechanically inclined.  I run, hike, and rock climb, I fix cars and motorcycles.   In fact, I’ve built a 60’s muscle car and a custom 70’s motorcycle and think of them as my callants, if you will.

But above all else, I love music.  I love playing music and listening to music.  Music is my constant partner.  Just as sonorous in the car as it is in my head when no music is playing at all.

Every moment is defined by music, every person judged by it.

“You listen to what?  Whatever is on the radio?”  I can’t understand people’s anythingarian approach toward music.

I’m also a drummer and can not, for the life of me, resist the urge to tap on my school desk, steering wheel, or any other surface that would make a noise when I hit it.  Just another thing about me that is certain to drive others crazy.

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