Around the same age as I learned the record player I became enamored with Spider-man. I do not remember whether this came before or after a fascination with spiders. (I am particularly fond of jumping spiders, they're cute and lively. One day I was playing guitar and noticed one on my knee, "dancing" as it watched my fingers. I say "dancing" because the reductionist in me thinks that the behavior I observed was an effect of the spider's prey-targeting circuitry, though the mystic in me wonders differently.) Anyway this fascination with spiders branched into a fascination with insects and other creatures and the workings of life in general. All that plus a latent fascination with video games is how I came to earn a degree in cognitive science focusing on artificial life.
"I have always felt dislocated within civilization. Whether the suburbs, the cities, or small towns, I have always felt suffocated, empty, and lost. Traveling from one location to the next, always over-idealizing the succeeding context. The grass always seemed greener. In this postmodern reality, dislocation is not the exception but the norm, and even the sought-after condition. We can never be whole as long as we live outside and above our surroundings, or for that matter, even view them as surroundings, and not as part of us."
It might be polite of me to put up some more recent pictures, but the right ones have yet to come along. I tried taking selfies one day: no. Suffice to say I can braid my face now.