What I'm about:
I’m
cheerful at first brush, and I am level headed most situations. I’m
actually at my happiest when I’m wading through chaos, slipping into the
background and slowly putting things back in order. Maybe my attraction
to dischord stems from that hidden mad scientist in me. Lucky for
everyone, I’m too dumb to cause any damage.
I
attribute my quirkiness to the circumstances presented to me. Not
everyone’s past has been idyllic, and mine was no different: a sister
robbed of normal motor and mental functions because of disease, the
ramifications of that event on my family, and the end result on me that
I’d care not talk about. There are times when I wish that I had survived
my trials a bit more gracefully, so that I would have ended up as a
better role model for my siblings and others. At least I got through
them. There aren’t any stickers for living past childhood, but I’m okay
with the pat on the back I give myself.
But
living through crap isn’t the only reward, isn’t it? I’m glad to say
that my experiences have pushed me into a number of interests that I
hold dear.
Writing
counts as one of those interests. It’s been touch and go as of late,
damn you writer’s block! Regardless, I get real jazzed when I think
about the trajectory of my writing habits. An interest that started with
Final Fantasy fan fiction, complete with self-insertion (I was always
the roguish dude), shifted to adventures involving my high school band
geeks and a trombone, and lately into poems and stories about love and
isolation that, to this day, gives my brain a real workout - and
headache.
Photography
is another thing I love. Most of the themes that I touch on are, well,
that whole “love and isolation” thing. Let’s just say that those two
things are very present in my mind at the moment.
Other
traits that were fostered from my experiences: I am loving to a fault
(i.e. vulnerable). I am ethical to a fault (as in killjoy). I am
detailed to a fault (read: perfectionist). You can say that I’m pretty
faulty. I’m quite guilty of that, actually. I come from a Catholic
background.
This
leads me to the thing that I struggle with the most: though I’ve been
granted a number of good quirks and traits because of this life, the one
real bad thing is that I am too harsh on myself. I have a tendency to
catastrophize my situation and, as a result, I literally make my life
worse than it should be. It’s a major bummer. I work so hard to make
good with people I like and know, only to panic at my good fortune and
purposefully withdraw or alienate myself from it all. I basically slice
off my Achilles tendon just when I’m about to win the 500 meter dash -
metaphorically speaking, anyway.
Some
people see me as a mess. Hell, most of the time I see myself as a mess
and find it unbearable. But on good days, like at the time of this
writing, I see my chaos as an opportunity to confuse and delight anyone
who will listen.
