I thought that there should be something about me, who I am, who I was, what color my underwear happens to be... you know, that sorta thing. Think of it as more of a “who the heck does that guy think he is!?” than a useful post.

I am me.

A simple statement, but a confounding one for many people. As for me, well I'm not so much confounded as confounding. Most people, myself included, are riot of conflicting and contradicting attributes. I am at peace with the chaos that is me, even though I don't fully understand myself. A simple example: I am brilliant, my IQ has been tested at over 180. Yet I am out of work and unable find fulfillment in my life. You say: “If he's so smart, why doesn't he have a job?” Darn good question. Or you might ask: “If you're so smart, what's the meaning of life?” Actually... I can answer that one. I (think) I know the meaning of life, although I'm still checking it. But I don't know the meaning of MY life. (I will be posting the Meaning of Life eventually, and in small bite-sized chunks. Warning: May cause sudden conversion to Christianity, Buddhism, Atheism, or Agnosticism.)

I was born in the morning, I think that's why I don't like them. It was a traumatic experience (I'd imagine), being born. My earliest memories are of my mom making a cross-stitch teddy bear train for me. I was less then 6 month old at the time. My mom and dad got divorced very early on and mom got remarried before I was 6 years. Mom and step-dad were/are doctors, my dad suffers a genetic form of depression. Depression + Absent Parents = Less Than Happy Child. Having 2 docs for parents had it's perks, but the price was too high for me. Step-dad was emotionally abusive, mom was busy. I'd have traded for a physically abusive step-dad and drug-addled mom. I could deal with the latter. My outlook on life grew so dim... well not suicidal, that just doesn't make sense, but very bad. Add a genetic pre-disposition for depression, and yay! So here I am, 6 years old, brilliant, depressed. And here I have remained.

I have a high-school education plus a great deal of self education. Not to mention that I remember my high-school education. How many of you remember your quadratic formula? (-b +/- square root of (b squared – 4ac) all divided by 2a! Or what about those sonnets? 14 lines with a rhyme scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG written in iambic pentameter. I drive my girlfriend, currently my fiancée, nuts because I know more about English and literature than she does, and she's an English Major. But all that I know, all that I've done, amounts to nothing. I've traveled from Alaska to Jerusalem, from deserts to rain forests, from the streets of New York to the halls of the Vatican. (The Sistine Chapel, by the way, looks a bit cartoonish.)

In any case, I am me, I am about 6 years old (not physically), brilliant, and thoroughly depressed. What's more, those are descriptions picked by other people, not me.

... oh yes, almost forgot: sanity. Let's put it this why, I've only be accused of sanity once, but he was just kidding.