ok. ok....I'll talk. but don't push the issue.....

My name is Christian Berith. NOT Chris. Not C. Just Christian. (Honestly I wish I could get my annoying roommate and cousin to STOP calling me C. Dawg, but I know it will be a cold day in hades before that happens.) Any way. Miss Girl. (Story Girl) Has asked me ever so politely (if not annoyingly obsessively and relentlessly) to describe myself so that the readers of her blog can understand what kind of person I am.
  First of all I am a part time student at the Local university (well that's what THEY call themselves. It's honestly just a city college but hey no harm in stretching the truth a bit,) I'm studying to be a U.S. History teacher with a minor in music. At the moment I work for a small claims company as a data entry assistant. (I hate my job.)
My father, Thomas, is from New York and my mother, Agate, was a foreigner but she never said exactly where it was that she came from. only that it was far away. Go figure. Dad always said that mom was a dreamer really. Any way my mother died when I was only 5, which took a big toll on my old man. Me as well. we both loved her dearly. She always had a smile for either of us no matter what day it was. Even when she was leaving us, she smiled every...damn. Sorry I just need to compose myself for a moment........
Any way. Even in the end. As she laid in the bed at the hospital, she would look at me and my dad and smile at us and say, 'don't worry. I'll always be there.' I was the one holding her hand as she left us. My father's hand was on my shoulder the whole time. I was in too much shock to understand at the time. (or maybe i was just too young)
When we got home that night, my father took me into the den and pulled me into his lap. He looked at me with loving but stern eyes and said, and I have never forgotten these words. "Now listen to me Christian, I know that your mother told you many stories about a far away land. She would tell you these stories at night in order to help you sleep. But there will be no more of that. I am sorry. Terand does not exist. (that was the land that mother always mentioned in her stories.) There is no such thing as magic or Arkanik. Only what you see and hear. I love you son, but as of now you need to be strong. Mother's not coming home. and we are not visiting her anymore."
It took me a bit to understand what all my father had said to me that night. I laid in bed trying to figure it all out. and when it all finally made sense to my little 5 year old brain. I couldn't stop the tears. I felt like my lungs were going to burst in agony from the lack of oxygen. I cried until my brain and body felt dried out and I could shed no more tears.
From the next day forward I stopped believing in fairy tales and fantasy. That is why I endure my 9-5 job punching numbers and counting and entering already figured data. that is why I study history. It is all facts. All facts.