Hopefully, This Cannot Be Disproven.

Right now, this is the "about me" section of the blog. I'm still working shit out, so you know, whatever. Someday it will get cut down when I get sick of reading and dissecting whatever I write.

As a rule, I usually don't try to describe myself, because whatever I claim will be wrong, unless I'm describing myself as "female" or "alive" which are both fucking spot-on. And I really want to give an accurate portrayal because, well, I'm obsessed with myself, and unsure of myself, which is probably why I have a blog in the first place. I can't write about anything else, and I have to write about something because words are so neat, and with them, like, the concept of language and the sound of it.

Oh, and here's a short list of more lists about me:

What I am, and What I'm Not.

Medals, Bitch.

Movies and books are good. I'm pretty sure the answers to every question are hidden within the patterns of pop culture, and the more connections I make, the more I think maybe, I kind of understand.

I get annoyed at the emerging popular geek culture, because now I have to be increasingly geekier just to stay ahead of the fucking game. Otherwise, I'm just normal, and that's terrifying. It's hard. It also makes me an elitist. The truth hurts.

I talk about this all the time, because, as I said, this is about me figuring things out for myself: but fate doesn't really do it for me. I'm much more focused on the balance aspect of identity (or any of those other Ayn Rand axioms). By that I mean, well, I'm more inclined to believe in chance than fate. But if chance weren't an option, we would never know about fate, and without fate there's no chance.

I feel like the preceding four paragraphs are now important to me, as a person. They play out like this: what I observe, the mindset I have towards those observations, and how I talk about them. It's the Rassles Method.

Factual stuff about me? I work for a non-profit, saving children and schools one day at a time. Goddamn hero, I am, I know. I am also extremely modest.

Garlic tastes good with like, everything. My dog rules, but doesn't live with me, and that makes me hurt inside. I try hard not to ignore anyone, because apathy does as much damage as hate, but sometimes I just can't help feeling that people deserve it. I know that if you believe your friends do not influence the decisions you make, then you're either a fucking idiot or you have no friends.

Now, it's odd, because I feel like I should mention that I'm single, but I've always tried to avoid defining myself as "single" because it's obnoxious to illustrate yourself only with respect to whether or not you have an Other. Still, I went and mentioned it, didn't I?

Huge pet peeve of mine: using "girly" as an insult. Like, "I don't want to get a manicure or pedicure. It is girly." You see, you are wrong, because "girly" and "lame as fuck" are not the same thing, and ideally, perceiving "lame as fuck" should vary from person to person. Know what else is lame as fuck? Basketball. Yeah, I said it. I don't give a shit about basketball or manicures, so figure that out. Shut up.

But the worst part about that entire thought process is that, initially, I associated "manicures" with women and "basketball" with men, and therefore unintentionally perpetuated those gender roles, and this is something I want to avoid. I will try not to talk about it directly within the blog, though, because it gets so goddamn tedious when people are preaching all the time, and I don't want to be one of those people, ever. I shall try to lead by example.

At one point in your life, I probably got you into trouble, and then laughed at you. Because it's funny. We were probably hammered, and I probably convinced you to do something really fucking stupid, like duct taping passer-outters to chairs and putting them in the lake, or kicking down giant wooden crates from behind the grocery store for firewood, or smoking whatever you just found in your pocket.

I have this complex where I always have to be creating something, and if I'm not creating in one aspect I overcompensate in others, and as a result I finish nothing. I get bored easily and switch topics all the fucking time, and once I find a good one I run with it until that horse is dead and beaten.


Which would mean that I finish things. Dammit.

I knew I'd get some shit wrong.

I don't like pointing things out, but I do it anyway, and that makes me hate myself just a little. But sometimes I can't help it.

That's probably because when I know something, anything, I automatically assume that everyone else in the world knows it too. I mean, I find out about everything last, but more importantly, I don't want to undermine the intelligence of others, like I feel so many have done for me. But that always leads to people going, "What the fuck are you talking about?" so I guess however I feel about my intelligence, I'm wrong. I'm either way stupider or way smarter. Chances are I'm stupider, because a smarter person would understand shit about themselves.

So...if I'm connoting, should I bother pointing it out? Should I link an outside source to further explain how this tesseract unravels into a cube? Sometimes I will. Sometimes, I think, innuendos are on an in-the-know basis. Sometimes, I think that geometrical allusions are far more important than people realize. And sometimes, I think that the mind is a tesseract, and metaphysics is where it's at.

I love science. I love religion even more. I believe in both, because they exist, and I believe in neither, because I'm neither scientific nor religious. I guess I believe in knowledge. And storytelling.

For the most part, I like people who tell a good story, whether it's at a bar or on a blog. In fact, I think it's really the only universal criteria I have to ascertain friendship. Screw loyalty, reliability, congruent personalities, trust, similar interests...that's all bullshit.

I wrote this elsewhere, but it holds true for like...everything: I want a grand nexus of faint metaphor and in-the-know-wit. I want shiny. I want the spirit of chuckles amidst the blood and the soul and the fists.

It's all a big fucking mess. I'm in the process of trying to sort it all out, and that, in the end, is what this blog, and everything I say or write, is about. Oh, and everything in this blog from the month of April, 2008 is from my old blog, which was on Myspace because I suck so hard. What makes me suck even harder was that I actually copied and pasted those blogs on this one, because, and I must reiterate: I am obsessed with myself.

As if this wasn't long enough (I will edit that shit down someday, I swear to god) in case you want to hear more all about me, email me here:

rassleslists@gmail.com

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