I've been playing around with this post for a long time, not really knowing where to start here.
I don't typically like talking about myself. Okay, that's a lie. I totally like talking about myself. Not that I'm a narcissist. But I know myself better than I know anyone else. Though, that's not saying much. I've known myself for forty-some years and I'm still learning.
My name really is Christopher Robin. My mother tells me I was named after two uncles — Chris and Robin. But I was born in the late 70s, so who knows?
I've been writing extensively on Medium for 2+ years and am looking to branch out.
Today I come to you from a quaint little coffee shop a few miles east of Pittsburgh, PA. The soft Indie rock plays quietly and the smell of freshly ground beans waft through the warm air. Okay, that's a lie, too. I'm at a Dunkin Donuts drinking a mass-produced caffeinated solution, but hey, any port in the storm, right?
I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing here. My writing friend 
Things I am:
A recovering alcoholic. An artist. A writer. A learner. A journeyman. A hiker. A father. A husband. A residential gentrification expert. A smartass. Joyful. Fun. Sad. Happy. Liberated. Loving. Strong. Authentic. Weird. Self-deprecating. Powerful. Bananas.
Things I am not:
In active addiction. Resentful. Angry. Close-minded. Lonely. Depressed. Bored. Stupid.
I love writing creative nonfiction and humor. I love drawing abstract art and learning new techniques and would love to share and make some art with you.
Is this it? I guess this is it for now. More to come I'm sure. No reason to drain the tank. Not that I think the creative tank can ever be really emptied.
Here's a thing I drew.