Paradoxes abound. Young Geoffrey fancies himself a writer but hasn't finished anything of significance since late last summer - his website is a finger-wagging reminder of that sad fact; he is widely-read yet managed to drop out of both high-school and university; he is ambitious and lazy; he loves driving but doesn't own a car - bicycles rock; he loves the bush and lives in downtown Toronto; he believes in polyamory but has never really given it a try; he likes the idea of smut but almost all of it bores him; politically, he is quite left-wing, yet has the Globe and Mail delivered to his door each morning; he smokes but plays hockey and tennis when he can.
Paradoxes are boring - enough of that.
Young Geoffrey has a new job, which is proving challenging as hell. He is seeing a wonderful - and likely completely inappropriate - girl with whom he shares an as-yet undefined relationship.
Despite living in Toronto since 1979, both his birthplace of Montreal and the wilds outside of Sudbury - where he spent 3 years as a child living with neither running water nor electricity - also still feel like "home".
He shares his apartment with a cat named Chet and once thought he would be Canada's first Socialist Prime Minister. Getting involved with a peace group during the mid-1980s killed his interest in the practice of politics, but human society continues to fascinate and often appal him.
He likes women as people and as sex-objects and (mostly) sees no contradiction in this; he likes men as people but not as sex-objects and (sometimes) wishes he could manage both.
He posts irregularly, sometimes going on a tear, sometimes going a week or more without an update. Most of the people on his friends' list are locals because he likes the idea he might meet them in real life one of these days - so far, such experiences have been (mostly) good ones. He can also be fickle, stumbling on a journal that seems intriguing, then deciding later that it wasn't - hence you may be added and deleted without a word. He knows this is considered rude by some, but isn't losing sleep over it. He only comments when he has something he considers witty and/or substantial to contribute. He likes comments but isn't offended by lack of same.
He smokes and drinks more than is good for him and isn't too shy about his other, more irregular vices. He hates cleaning up his cat's hairballs, likes cooking and his taste in music is not what most people consider cool.
Finally, he is growing weary of referring to himself in the third person and will likely change this profile (again) in the near future.