I tend to ramble. I won't say that I'm honest to a fault, but I'm usually honest about my faults. About my virtues, not so much. Most people market themselves, I create warning labels. I believe that even if people see the worst of me, they'll give me a chance. Sometimes, I'm even right.

People tell me I should write an autobiography, but this space is too small.

I am the rainman of relationships.

Before I was born, I did battle with a shadow, and came out triumphant. My first words were "I don't want the damn thing." I taught myself to read before I was two. I have ridden across the United States on Greyhound, and around it as well. I have visited three continents, but only nine countries outside of my home country.

I am a metaphor, but only like a simile. I'm an all star. I'm someone else's star. I'm much too young to feel this damn old.

I have only half my brain, yet am smarter than a fifth grader. I have only one testicle, the other one went to my last girlfriend in a vicious breakup, or maybe when we made up afterwards. I am a student of the world, and every year I have to turn down the Nobel Prize in Mathematics.

Yeah, hey, I'm slightly full of it.

But only slightly.

I am the wrong answer to a question that was not asked. I am the raspy cigarette voice after a sordid encounter in a very cheap motel. I believe prayer is a form of self-mutilation, like cutting yourself to feel better. I am words on cocktail napkins. Not pleasant, well meaning words, either.

Speaking of which, I am the prize behind door number ..3.

My name is Alexander, and I am the secret ruler of the world. I am all things to all people. Did I mention that I'm full of it?

I am that product from TV, used twice and paid for in three easy installments.

Going back to school for a certificate in Creative Writing now that I've finished two Bachelors degrees (December 2008, finally got BS in Mathematics, and BS in Economics). As of October, I have applied to Phoenix Teaching Fellows, hoping to teach math at a high-needs school next fall.

Writing, both fiction and poetry. I'm also studying improv theatre and practicing it. I may invite you to a show as a 'first meeting'.

Jovial Blasphemy. Creativity, especially in writing. Old-school tabletop game design. Using big words correctly. Being a disappointment. Logic. Hypnosis. Mathematics.

Dimples. As much as I hate it, this always seems to be the case.

Before you get me talking, you might notice that I'm lurking on the outside, away from the crowd, too shy to walk up to anyone or get involved in a conversation. I'm a wallflower. I smile a lot at people, and try to make a lot of eye contact.

If I'm not wearing my glasses, often my eyelashes. When my hair is short, my brain surgery scar. Either way, of course the dimples. I also wear wry t-shirts with various messages on them.

And for some reason, I come across as arrogant and/or intelligent. People who don't even know me seem to think I'm special and will contribute a lot to the world. I have no idea where they get this.

These are not favorites so much as current enjoyments, to give a hint of my taste. Why are all these in the same section?

Books: The Oxford English Dictionary. Mostly I read science fiction and fantasy - basically any kind of speculative fiction attracts me. But honestly, I read too much to have any sort of fixed favorite.

Movies: I hate playing favorites, especially with something like movies, where I'm exposed to so many in a short period of time.

Music: I never remember band names or anything, so here's some genres: Musicals, Country, Pop, Musicals, Oldies, Classical (the only audiences that know how to behave!), Rock, and did I say Musicals? And anyone from Doctor Demento, who's in a category all his own.

Food: Man, I'm too picky. Steak, tar-tare, pizza, most pastas. Meat, generally. Garlic, onion. Nothing potato-related, and veggies are more decoration than a dish.

Language. Learning. Imagination. Love. Hope. Laughter.

What I could have done different, or could be doing differently. Hypnosis. Stories. Games. Linguistics. Philosophy. Mathematics. Economics. Love. Life, and death. People I know, or would like to know. The past, the future. My characters, my stories. Atheism.

At home, or late enough at Space 55, watching an improv troupe perform

Sometimes, when I'm alone at night, I talk to the moon. We're on a first-name basis. I don't seriously think the moon talks back to me.

...you dare. If you're willing to see past the bluster and are intrigued by what sort of person is actually under here.

I'm still trying to fight through my own shyness by sending messages. If you decide to decline answering, I'd appreciate a reply letting me know why.

Feel free to find me on AIM, where I share a username with my okcupid account.