Aka "random facts, rantings and such."
I spent three years at Barnard College/Columbia University majoring in Poli Sci, minoring in Econ, and taking classes in dead languages that I've now forgotten entirely. I went to college to become a political journalist; somewhere along the way I got derailed by computers. (Thanks, RCA program.)
I currently work as the New York correspondent for IDG News Service, a technology newswire that feeds IDG's array of publications around the world. It is a very cool job. Previously I spent several years at Silicon Alley Reporter, editing and writing for various now-defunct newsletters. En route, I made stops at Vault.com (back before it was a dot-com) and The News & Observer.
I do a bit of writing that's more creative; I house that over on my writing page.
The best place to find me online is ifMUD. It's a MUD populated by the denizens of rec.arts.int-fiction and rec.games.int-fiction, which are the newsgroups devoted to interactive fiction, a somewhat obsessive hobby of mine. More on that over in my hangouts page.
I live in NYC now, but I'm originally from Columbia, Maryland (the Hickory Ridge village). I mention this only because I'm inordinately amused that my hometown has a webpage, and that it's so incredibly cheesy.
When I'm at home, I'm usually sleeping, messing about with the computer or reading. I came to college with six milk crates of books, which grew to thirteen by the time I moved out. Toss in my collection of Infocom games and posters (prominently featuring the ducks of Bedard, which I consider high art, even if no one else does), and the end result was a bit cluttered. Just a tad. I eagerly awaited the day I'd move out and have enough room for proper bookshelves.
I used to have a whinge here about how, thanks to my 200-square-foot studio apartment, my books still lived in milk crates and boxes, but we recently escaped Manhattan to a comparatively spacious Brooklyn apartment. It has a kitchen, bedrooms, floors, frippery like that, but most importantly, it has what I'd endlessly longed for in a living area: wall space. Which we immediately lined with bookshelves.