The profile below is long. It's really long. Scroll down and look. Did you bother coming back to this? Alright then. I wrote all this in bits and pieces over the time I've been on here. Some parts are entertaining. Other than that, I promise nothing. By reading on you agree to the following:
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Right, so, formalities and questionably binding legal agreements aside, the following is my best approximation of me:
Born in July of 1987, I came into the world at the tail end of what was arguably the most confused decade in American history. Nestled uncomfortably between the drugged haze of the 1970's and the pop-culture overdose of the 1990's were the 80's, when clothing was brightly colored and obnoxious, the music industry enjoyed a brief and deeply regrettable fling with synthesizers, and the video gaming clique was still discovering itself. The cold war was just wrapping up, but those pesky terrorists were making a lot of noise over in that ancient, sun-scorched shithole they've been fighting over since time immemorial, so nobody really knew what to make of the new status quo. It was appropriate, then, that my first experience after being brought home from the hospital in the loving arms of two caring parents, the world new, its problems not yet known, was that my older brother should proceed to punch me and sit on my head. It added a sort of awkward symmetry to the experience of joining a family. Good and Bad intermingled to give a young me a fairly accurate, if somewhat difficult to understand at the time, perspective on the world:
A place filled with loved ones and assholes.
The family moved a lot after that. The old man was a military sort, and that meant systematically transplanting every so many years. Not that I minded much... mind you. I was small, and my life consisted mostly of crying, pooping, and trying to remember which family member provided milk, which one scared away the scary things, and which one occasionally hit me when he thought the folks wouldn't notice. This went on for a while, and somewhere along the way I gained two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and subsequently discovered that I had four much older half-siblings floating around somewhere in the world, making me one of eight by my last count. We kept moving even after Pop stopped wearing a uniform and started wearing a suit, but it happened a little less often. I think, looking back, that this is partially why I am something of a recluse. I typically made *one* friend per new area of residence. I would observe patiently from an isolated area of the cafeteria, that one desk that was pushed to the back of the class because it was missing a foot and wobbled, or from the tall grass near the fence at the edge of the playground until I spotted my prey. The weakest member of the local pack was often my first choice. Easier to separate from the others. Not much chance of getting pulled into a group. No drama to worry about. Once identified, I would move quickly. This individual would be promptly informed that they were to serve as my friend until such a time as it was no longer reasonably convenient, and given their observed desperation for any form of acceptance, an understanding would typically be achieved. Then the family would move again, and I would start over. Remember this was all before cellphones were really a thing, so this moving away business meant severing all contact with those left behind. Eventually, we ended up in Georgia, wherein I spent most of my school years from late elementary through College.
I eventually emerged from my odd sort of childhood to find that I was now an odd sort of man, having been molded as much by my circumstances as I was by the choices I'd made along the way. I'm an introverted sort, I think. Social interaction isn't necessarily unenjoyable, but I find it draining. I need time with just myself or very close friends and family during which to recharge my social batteries. Where most people seem to recharge each other through interaction, I have to spend my sociability like an awkward sort of currency, and because of this I tend to be very selective about who I spend my time with.
Now I find myself wearing a uniform that's very similar to the one my father used to wear. I've returned to the state of my birth on orders that will, most likely, soon send me elsewhere, and even though I've been working my entire life to get to where I am right now, I can't shake the feeling that this is a temporary arrangement.