Keywords to save everyone time:
Heteroflexible, sapiosexual, sex-positive, queer, cyberpunk, transhumanist, polyamorous, open marriage, roguelike geek, sysadmin, compulsive reader, minimalist runner. More if I can think of them. I was listed as bisexual, but I'm a solid 2 on the Kinsey scale and I find it difficult but not impossible to form romantic relationships with other men. So there's that.
I'm married to whiskeywhispers, my ever-present accomplice, and we're both poly/open. Serious inquries only.
TL;DR, I am pragmatic, progressive, and a Red Mage. I got mad letters for that Myers-Briggs, I go I, I go F, but I mainly go ENTJ.
I'm Adam, and I'm a real person. I've got quirks. I wash my hands a lot, I organize my books by descending size from left to right, I'm fixated on symmetry, and I don't like wearing shoes with laces or anything that I can't sprint in at a moment's notice. It takes me 5 minutes to get ready for work, and a minute of that is making myself get out of bed. I travel light, but I'm almost always prepared. I keep snacks and bottles of water in my car because I know I will eventually forget them, find them, and be fucking elated to have them. I have fetishes for bags and multitools. I spend at least 4-8 hours a day reading blogs, books, comics, tutorials. That may be an understatement.
Mostly I'm just trying to make my niche as a thinking node in the human organism, and trying even harder not to lose myself in the sense of insignificance that can come with that
Here's the unabridged version.
These types of prompts get mixed replies from me. I used to wax poetic, I tend to wax philosophical, but none of that ever really gets the point across. Let me get as real as I can with you.
I could eat Whataburger taquitos every damn day and never tire of them. For a while, I actually did and thankfully, I lost that weight. A lot of it had to do with breaking up with the girl who was feeding me taquitos and getting with another girl who lost her job and lived on my dime for way too damn long. Ever had someone cheat on you with some random internet person from Xbox Live? I'm so glad this didn't interfere with my and my Xbox's relationship.
If you catch me at the right time and place, my accent can go from Beaumont to Alief. I've known a lot of people and I've forgotten about a lot of them, but their mannerisms still stick with me in pieces. If you're just encountering me on the street, my non-regional diction is at the point where I've been told by non-native English speakers that "my English is perfect" and I "sound like a person in a movie" and asked by native Texans where I'm from because they think I'm from the northeast US.
Sometimes I'll wake up before everyone else, wrap myself in the old horsehair blanket my Granny gave me so long ago, and watch cartoons while I eat cereal. I've been doing it for probably the last 17 years. It's one of the few habits that I try to keep from my childhood unaltered, and it's always a sobering moment to look into the black of a television screen and see the hairy man face of the present staring back at me where a still expect to see a wiry, lanky kid.
Up until 4 or 5 years ago, I used to get really excited about a lot of things, but after spending a lot of time either not seeing that kind enthusiasm in anyone else or basically having my interests derided by the people around me, I dialed it back considerably. Naturally, I spent years hearing from everyone I knew that they missed 'the old Adam'. Secretly, I still get just as excited but usually only in front of my brothers, who I know will understand, or mai waifu, who enjoys seeing me light up and go on about nonsense, like analyzing the moveset of Little Mac from the recent Super Smash Bros reveal.
Moving into my new apartment recently, I spent two days on and off the phone with Comcast because our internet service wasn't connecting. When we reached the point that there was basically nothing left to do but call a technician, I hung up on them. I unscrewed the cable and knocked some paint out of it. Nothing. I removed the jack from the wall and cleaned it out with an eyeglass screwdriver. Nothing. I dug through my bin of wires and connectors and pulled out a splitter and tried using that instead of the jack. I'm holding it in my hand with a victorious look on my face and whiskeywhispers, surprised but not at all, says to me, "You just have a random cable splitter lying around?" Without looking away from my task, I come back with, "Damn right. You married me for a reason." She giggles and I continue with a smirk. The splitter is connected. Nothing.
I pulled the cable out of the wall and hooked it directly into my modem. Nothing. So I put on my hoodie and went out back, hoping like hell another tenant didn't come out and make me stop what I was doing to tell them why they should sod off and leave me to what I was doing. I found the junction box, it wasn't locked or anything, pulled off the front, and lo and frickin behold, the cable with my apartment number wasn't connected to a socket. I plugged it in and that was seriously all it took. Well, that and having Xfinity reps make me power cycle my modem repeatedly.
I was called the nicest person in the group recently by a large group of people. It's true to an extent, but it's more political than anything. I resolve conflict and I get things done, I open dialogue and I help people learn, because I feel like most conflict comes from fear or confusion on the part of one or all parties. So I said, "I won't deny this, but I want to clarify that I'm not nice because I believe in being nice to people, I'm nice because I think people are shitty and I want them to quit it." Which is basically true, myself included.
I've kept an old trunk since I was a kid that's loaded down with photos and old keepsakes. I was moving it to my new apartment recently and it had never been so heavy. I chuckled about it to myself at the time, because luckily for me, I'm more than strong enough to carry my own literal emotional baggage.
Clutter bothers the hell out of me, so I don't really react much to stuff, objects. (You'll hear me refer to them as 'artifacts'.) They don't carry much sway with me. I prefer tools, gadgets, furniture: things with presence and use. When I want adornment, I go for meaning rather than flash or pomp. I'm a collector of both curiosities and the curiosity of those around me. In the same vein, I used to be preoccupied, even obsessed with being an interesting person. Having more than established that, my fixation has shifted not to being a person of interest, but to stimulating the interest of others by showing them things they never considered.
When I was in high school, I went with a friend to the apartment of someone else he knew. She was a very mystical person, and she had a deck of very ornate cards with animals on them. My friend asked what they were, and she said to draw one to find out his spirit animal. I thought it was silly, but I had no reason to doubt it, so I took a card.
It was a frog.
I was underwhelmed that it wasn't a bird or a bear or a wolf, something with more grandeur that I'd be more likely to see in Native American art than in black light posters. I looked it up eventually and the frog represents metamorphosis, fertility, transition. It's a symbol of pure growth. I've never questioned it since, through any iteration of myself.
It's been a long time since my essay was this long, but I have a lot of stories to tell. I'll save the rest for when you need to hear them.