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Something Clever Here
4 September 1975
I was born the second son of August Joseph Stanley, who was the first son of a drunk and a very brave woman. My mother, Regina Elizabeth (nee Diven), was one of the youngest of her eight other siblings

I was brought into the Holy Roman Church before I could speak. My love of reading was my gift from the nuns of St. Rita's, my parish's school. One can only assume their lives were filled with books, and little else. One of the greatest gifts I ever received from someone was Sister Marie Immacule, who gave me a trashbag full of books at the end of my first grade year. Thank you, Sister, where ever you are. I grew up with my world being the sameness of blue courderouy and light blue polo, day in and day out for twelve years, interspersed with the horror that was Picture Day. Picture day meant itchy wool sweaters, which I detest to this day.

From there, I went onto Archbishop Curley Highschool in the city. If we are eternally the person we were in High School, then I don't mind. I was polite, courteous, funny, willing to listen, willing to hate the world, and question the government, willing to try new things, and a little odd.

I tried college, and collge was too trying for me at the time, idiot that I was. That I will rectify.

I moved out of the house at 20. I settled in with an old highschool friend Nate at his sister's house in Hamilton. I broke a lot of stuff in that house, which to some extent I regret. I think I still have stuff there.

After that, due to promised career oppurtunities, I moved down to Virginia. And lo, I am a married man.

Hey, in Orlando now. It's the middle of nowhere in terms of LARPs and SCA. Jeebus.


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