Who Am I?

Have you ever asked yourself that question?  It’s a hard one to answer if you really think about it.  This question often comes to me at the strangest of times, often in the dark of night when nothing is going on and there’s a small degree of stillness to my existence.

So today is one of those rare days when two posts are plopped onto the blog.  Usually I’m lucky if I bother to write one a week, although there’s been an influx due to moving from one blog site to another.

So who am I?  Well, I was born in 1969 which makes me currently 47 years old.  I stand an amazing 5 foot 7 inches tall and weight a deplorable 160 pounds.  Yeah, I can’t get my head around this stone / pound business in the UK.  Currently I have short black hair with streaks of blonde in there and a long tail at the back for effect.  Actually I’ve kept the hair tail for a long time as a status symbol of being a mage.  Ah yes, I do have to mention that I don’t follow any relgion but am quite spiritual and have practiced various forms of magick over the years so I suppose I could be qualified as a heretic by most standards.  I’m undoubtedly iconclastic, that’s a fact.  I also live with complex post-traumatic stress disorder which can make me a fairly ornery person at times.  Yet it does lend to my dark sense of humor which, contrary to what most would observe, is active at all times.  I do tend to laugh internally at most thing.  And, frankly, I’m an elitist, a snob, considering myself above most of the human race.  Why, you might ask?  I should tell you then, youngerling.

I don’t consider that most people today actually use their brains, while I am constantly using mine.  If I’m not figuring out a problem, I’m contemplating something.  I question almost everything other than what I’ve found to be fact, and even that can change over time if the evidence presents that an reevaulation is required.  I’m meticulous in my actions and thoughts, whereas people today are exceptionally scattered.  I tend to give the impression that I’m above it all (which I am) and cold (which I’m not).  If people have the strength to get to know me, which is a challenge at the best of times, they tend to realize there’s more to me than the exterior.

I built up a harsh exterior to protect myself.  You see I come from a family where I used to get anything I wanted.  But when my father found out I was gay, he threw me out of the house.  So I learned not to share everything about myself until I trust someone.  That trust always takes time to build up and I give little pieces over that time depending on the scale.  I spent much of my youth trying to make friends and often that led to me basically buying their friendship.  Yes, I was the life of the party because it was my money funding the good times.  When the bad times hit, they all disappeared, leaving me with a wasteland.  As far as lovers were concerned, I was used often by many.  I got myself involved with people for all the wrong reasons.  There’s a host of other reasons that drove me to my current state, including the time when I went underground and removed myself from society as much as I could.  Trust me when I say, I’m not a bastard by nature.  I’m this way by years of careful abuse.

So we can tack on abuse survivor.

What are some other labels as we go along?  Husband to a marvelous man, that is a prime one.  Son to a lovely woman who has long since past.  Brother to a beautiful sister and otherwise not often mentioned brother.  I can get into the reason for that rift later on.  Owner of four cats that occasionally drive me nuts but otherwise are a source of relaxation, when they aren’t driving me nuts.  Technician, gamer, role player, leather guy.  Singer, poet, writer and blogger.  Outdoor enthusiast, avid traveler.

Hey I could be a Time Lord!

Asking that one particular question, Who Am I, can lead to discovery and you tend to notice that a majority of your labels come from external definitions.  It’s hard to push those aside to actually find out who you are, by your own definitions.  I think I spend a bit too much time finding these definitions; sorting the old and new, organizing the pure form of myself.  When I shave away all the fluff, I’m left with only the facts of who I am.

I am Wildcat.