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A short autobiography of me and then my journal

2003-06-09 - 5:56 p.m.

"History" is divided up into two sections: first a short autobiography and then a snippet about my mammoth-sized journal.

My life in the time it takes to boil a really stubborn egg

My mother and father met inside a natural foods store along the little known backroads of Topanga Canyon, a forested nook in Southern California by the coast; it was and still is hippyfest central. Mom had been working Renaissance Faires across California but decided to settle down when I was due. She thought the roving Gypsy lifestyle wasn't a good environment for a kid. I was born in Ben Loma, CA: four shacks in the redwood forest smack inside Santa Cruz.

Robert split when I was 5. Correction, mom kicked his arse straight out of the house because he was an alcoholic, possessive ritualistic magick practicing egotistical fucknut of a man...when I was 5. It was his umpteenth chance; she'd had it.

Mom and I watched out for each other after that. She'd work on stained glass windows all day and night while I went to school and occasionally reminded her to eat. She says I even learned to cook so I could feed her when she forgot or didn't have the time. She'd had a stained glass business once, only to be under-bid by a Taiwan company and left destitute. We were poor. We were damn poor, but we had each other.

Over the next 5 some odd years we moved to a bunch of different places, mom dated a bunch of different boyfriends (with me playing inspection manager and customs on that angle) and I went to a bunch of different grade schools. I'd say I had to start over each time, but I didn't usually start much in terms of friendships. I was an incredibly shy kid and I received constant hell from the other boys. I hated sports, I had an odd name and I couldn't understand why guys liked beating the crap out of each other. I didn't understand the world or why I'd been put in it; nothing made sense to me. I did ok in school (much better after my father left), but I either didn't care or didn't bother paying attention. It wasn't until the end of 7th grade when I really looked at my report card of 3 F's, 2 D's and a C that I decided to change my life and attitude around. And I did.

Around that same time, as a side note, you can read here about the months Mom and I spent under the roof of a coke dealer and how we smuggled ourselves over to my grandmother's place. The post also gets into the loner part of my personality.

To get back on track, since my junior high and high school were very close by, I got to know several friends well. Several friends became a few dozen when I started to hang out with the super intellectual/overachiever crowd and the goths. Neither group understood why I bothered with the other, but I looked at it as juggling cafeteria meal choices.

My social life only partly revolved around high school, though. I'd gotten to know another few dozen people through these archaic things called Bulletin Board Systems (BBSes), including a set of kick ass older people that dragged me around town on some weekends.

I spent other weekends out over at a hobby/game shop called The Game Zone down in Reseda, California. That place was like Mecca for the geeks and roleplayers of the San Fernando Valley. I first went to it when I was 12. I became a semi-regular, chatting it up with older people who respected my intelligence and-—by some incredibly bizarre twist of fate--meeting a group of sophisticated, very cosmopolitan gay friends who took me under their wing as their forbidden fruit teenage eye candy.

My dating situation basically began when I was 15. It'd be confusing and pointless going through the girls and women (from 13 to 33 years of age) I dated, but suffice it to say that I jumped from one very short-term relationship to the next--usually without the complication of sex (since disease really scared me). Relationships just naturally crashed and burned on their own.

I went out with all manner of the female variety, from a goth opera singer ('Amy') all the way to your stereotypically ditzy but very curvy swede ('Claire'). I've never experimented with men (although several older ones were and are more than willing to help in that department); never been inclined to and I doubt I ever will.

I lost touch with everyone-—excepting two old friends—-from High School when I went off to my first college up in Washington at the University of Puget Sound. Mom drove us up all the way there on my first and (so far) only road trip. It was scary as hell leaving home, but I adapted very quickly and forgot I had a family. I mostly focused on studying while my freshman year roommate, Justin, clocked in over 13,548 minutes of Quake II the first semester. Besides bonding with the people on my floor, I met some amazing people, including this striking young black guy whom I convinced to transfer out of UPS and go off in search of greener pastures; I remember and love him like a brother to this day. We once belted out made-up poetry in a forest that literally bordered the campus; he had a stanza about we being superior to the trees since they didn't have dicks; it's true, y'know.

UPS wasn't right for me, though: too Greek, not academic enough, way too Tacoma (slums) and too little Seattle (like NYC in the 60's).

So I decided transfer that next year to Oberlin College, my Alma Mater. Detailing my sophmore and junior years would be like giving you a dry hand-job and flicking through old tourist photos simultaneously. Basically, I majored in Neuroscience and Psychology with a minor in History, did pretty damn well, met a lot of people and dated half a dozen of them (very short-term relationships, of course). I also started doing scientific research.

I graduated from college back in June 2002 and spent the next 8 months looking for a job. I didn't have the energy to go to graduate school just yet and wanted to take some time off for myself. I got bogged down for awhile. I didn't know anything besides being a student; didn't know what to do with myself. After many near misses/hits in the job department, I decided to look around the local area for work at the universities as a researcher. I found Dr. Zivago. He didn't have any grant money for me, but after our interview he was delighted to get me started as a volunteer/graduate student by proxy in his lab.

Aside from science, though, I'm a passionate amateur photographer (see "photography" page). I also do some professional and amateur writing; I have half a short-story six categories down on this site

under 'To Hell and Back Again'

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Explanation of my journal

My journal begins half-way through the summer of my junior year of college all the way up until today. If you're interested in catching some of the highlights over the past two years, take a look at my "highlights" page (which'll be up soon). Usually I rely on my sarcastic sense of humor when writing about things that piss me off. When I'm feeling more thoughtful, though, I tend to use a lot metaphors and imagery. You'll also come to quickly see that I am my own worst enemy, but with the amusing twist that I use this to my advantage.

In layman's terms: Read my journal at your own risk. I am not legally, or in any way, responsible for anything I write or post on my site.

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