I'll probably drop the rare (frequent) cynical remark of a dying poet over the course of you knowing me given the hypothetical that such a thing breathes. "I'm my own greatest enemy." Give me a Pulitzer.
People seem to have this odd superstition that I'm nice, possibly due to the statistical sample I can access being reduced to those that believe I'm nice or simply because they have faith that my motives are nice. Whether or not I'm nice is still up for dispute. In the end, whichever I am, even if you don't get to know me, you'll find someone better, so no point in rating it or comparing it, it's just something to work on regardless.
No sapien has ever initiated contact with me without thinking that my constant warring analysis of myself and my universe against my seemingly structureless emotions were/are self destructively intense. I like to think that there's an instance of homogeneity, but alas:
In case you can't tell from how obviously pretentious I am, I'm a Liberal Arts Major, and I can be very intense (people usually love it or hate it).
Theatre! Philosophy! Film! These are things that interest me! Unlike many Liberal Arts Majors, I also am infatuated with astrophysics, mathematics, and space tits. Or astronomy, whatever. Colloquialisms! Slang! Urban terminology! Synonyms!
If these topics
Are your cup of tea
Then please be sure
To leave a message for me
I don't know where I am most of the time. Like right now. I think this is my apartment, but I can't tell. If you're a very zealous stalker, you could probably just drug me, put me in a duplicate of my computer room in your house that is basically a box with a computer and has literally no other similarity to my actual computer room, and I'd probably get on the computer and notice nothing different as long as my computer is the same. I might be confused as to where the restroom is now and then, but I'd be none the wiser otherwise. I spend a lot of time thinking, which may provoke you to believe I'm intelligent.
Do not be fooled so easily. I put little of my thought into anything that you would probably find it worthy of putting effort into. Liberal Arts, remember? I solve impractical equations, make impossible blueprints, draw pretty things and tear them up, and masturbate excessively. My ego, I mean. I masturbate my ego.
And go to college along with the masturbation, but those two go hand in hand (right one, but I switch a lot).
I must admit, I find this question particularly difficult to answer simply because I'm not sure what "my life" means. It's difficult to create a cohesive narrative compatible with the idea of a constantly evolving entity. But enough about Theseus and his lack of proper maintenance crews, let's talk about what I'm really good at.
Hm. Oh, wait, BOOM! That was mandatory. Back to being pensive.
Promising myself that I'll value the happiness of others over my pointless pursuit of things to think of so I can finally grow past the emotional maturity and awareness of a fetus (murdering me would be considered abortion), but then pushing random people aside for random shit anyway like the things I mentioned before which I already forgot. And food, I guess. I sometimes go a long time without eating, but I'm willing to bankrupt buffets.
What was the question?
I'm also good at the maths, practical and abstract. The sciences. The logics. The Theatre. The stand up. The improv. The offensive homage to the Indian propensity to unnecessarily add the word "the."
I also got Best Supporting Actor once. Big fish in a small pond of High School actors. You can see it in my picture, I think.
And this one, I do feel genuine pride from: Best Written/Directed/Produced Senior Showcase of the Year for a play I wrote and directed. Yum.
Well, actually, it wasn't so much an actual award as it was random stragglers coming up to me and saying that it was the best written play they'd seen all year. Although, I'm pretty sure they were high and they just saw the poster and convinced themselves they saw the whole thing. STILL PROUD!
OH, and also, I'm very good with computers. It's nice to hang out with things that are less socially adept than me (though, looking at cybernetic trends, it would appear that my enthusiasm may fade in that reasoning [and considering these things less socially adept than me is stretching it a bit]). If you've read this far, aren't interested in me, but have computer problems (a very unlikely scenario), message. Or if (THERE WAS A TYPO HERE, MAY ALL THE UNIVERSE KNOW REGARDLESS OF MY CORRECTION) you just wanna check out my sexy Linux setup (I'm lying, it's a basic Cinnamon Ubuntu LTS), also message me.
I'm also good at finishing my
I mean, who dates based on food? "Oh, I love french fries, too! Getting all those salty potato sticks shoved down my mouth FUCK ME."
That actually seems slightly plausible.
My tastes are very fickle, but with a method to the madness. An algorithm of sorts that also is very fickle and decides to occasionally change. Selfness is illusory.
My tastes also lie in tasteless humor.
Reasoning (Debating, Math, Philosophy, etc.)
The ability to count
Arbitrary direction of time
The ability to count
I could never do those things without myself.
*throws quantum physics and philosophy books at computer*
TIME DOESN'T EXIST! IDENTITY DOESN'T EXIST!
So I guess I spend time thinking about how time can't be spent?
Only on Fridays, though. Apparently, this prompt thinks it's very important that it's Friday when I do this. Every dating website I join is a cult...
I enjoy exhausting possibilities, and you should help me do that by messaging me. While I'm deceptively male (let's just call me gender fluid because who can keep track of these gender roles any more, amirite?), I don't have a world record in initiating conversations or keeping them going, so don't assume I've totally lost interest in you if I stop messaging you or if I don't message you at all. Assume I've lost interest if I block you (not that bad of a consequence) and write your name in blood on a pentagram (a bit more severe).
Some final things, I go by Cave. It's a silly name with a long history, and I'm really only saying silly to appease the readers when it has quite a bit to do with my illusory sense of self. In case you're not fond of referring to me as a pastry/delicacy (if you do happen to have some strange kink for such things, um, go ahead).
And really, debating in general, message me. I might not respond, I don't always have the time (I promise I do try to respond to everything, but OKCupid is actually a bit further down on my priority list than I think is sufficient for it to be functional). Still, you ought to do it.