Or..not. At least not like that. Greatest common factors are only useful when simplifying fractions - let's deal in whole people.
How about, instead, I'll just tell some stories, and then at the end, you can decide if I sound like someone you'd like to hang out with. And if not, that's totally cool, alright? We're all going to lead absurdly first-rate lives filled with love and affection, I promise.
OK, so to begin at the most relevant beginning: Once upon a time, I had this little T-shirt company, that suddenly became a very big T-shirt company when two designs made the front page of Fark.com. I should explain that I'm not a designer by any stretch, it's just that the internet is a weird place - the highest selling shirt, for instance, was a picture of the periodic table which, below, said, "The Periodic Table, Bitch."
However, it turns out that to run a business, it's usually a good idea to have what people in the industry call a "business plan". So, that enterprise quickly went all like Cupid with the wings and then the burning and finally the "oh god no".
In the aftermath, I heard a voice from the East, crying "Move to Korea! You can make an adventure out of paying off all your dumb-ass's newly found debt!"
As I am always one to heed a mysterious voice, even if I take umbrage at its tone, I left a month later. In the Far East, wonders upon wonders abound. I'll recount three such tales:
1.) The first time I wore short sleeves, the kids gaped open mouth and called "BEAR!", having never before seen arm hair. As I walked around giving the lesson, they all took turns petting me.
2.) Walking down the street, I would often hear voices yelling TRAN-SUH-POH-TUH! TRAN-SUH-POH-TUH!
If you ever want to feel good about yourself, go to Asia. Teenagers mistook me for Jason Statham.
3.) As I was walking back from buying Pringles at 3 a.m., a full squad of policemen came running toward me with their clubs out, yelling unmentionables in Korean.
When they got close enough to see that I was a whitey(and that I was near pants-crapping levels of scared) they paused, looked at each other and said, "Oh... s-s...soh-ry." bowed in unison, turned (again, in unison), and ran back toward the direction from which they had come. I was left alone on the street at 3am to wonder why.
So, yeah, I taught kids for a year, using the broad definition of teach. That is, we mostly played games and sang lots of songs and did crazy dances. And candy. I gave them so much candy.
Then I started teaching adults. This was perfection. I became pretty tight with my morning class of middle-aged women. We had a weekly routine: sobbing together at chick-flicks, followed by karaoke, followed by drinking, followed by complaining about our husbands and kids.
This was an incredible 4-year stint. My job was now to make a room full of people laugh and talk and get to know each other better, which meant that I loved going to work. I had 3 months of vacation a year, and I spent them visiting home or sitting on a beach in the South Pacific with my friends and a glass of wine. This was to be the rest of my life.
Then, my sister called to say that she'd been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. And I know I've been trying real hard for this Steve McQueen vibe throughout the story, but let me break that to say that my sister was a special person, my best friend, and easily the deepest level of understanding I've ever had with someone. She was the person I was always showing off for.
So, I left for the States the next morning. I called my boss from Tokyo to tell her I wouldn't be back (which..didn't go exceedingly well). And, after 10 weeks, my sister passed away in June of 2010. And, of course everything is different now, and after a year lost and upset, I'm here in Oklahoma City, re-starting my life.
There, it's all there. Maybe too much is there, I don't know. Who puts a life story on a dating site? Apparently, I do. So maybe that in itself is the best indicator of who I am.