It's Time to Define Myself

It seems that everyone around me is attempting to define themselves. They are looking for specific boxes to put themselves in. And while I hate boxes (not purely in the metaphorical sense of thinking, but especially in the moving sense [I always use bags, or flat pieces of wood. Unnecessary? Perhaps. But it's a statement and to be maintained, extreme measures must be taken and held. Stop rambling in parentheses? Sure.])...

...

Oh, there I was.

—And while I hate boxes, it's the new fad and the only reason you are even reading what strange ideas I decide to spout about (rhyme!) is because of a fad (one I enjoy whole-heartedly mind you). Thus I have decided to find my own definition for myself. My own box.

I'll begin with the boxes I've seen others sitting in.

About a week ago Niall decided to classify himself as a "minarchist." Don't know what it is? Wikipedia it (yeah, it's a verb now, like Google. Also spaghetti has been updated to an adjective, just a heads up next time you can't find the words to explain...well anything really). Anyway, Wikipedia minarchist, that's how Niall found out about it. So Niall is a minarchist.

Then tonight I just read Alaina's blog about her own self discovery of her sexist nature (not really sure if that sentence was grammatically correct, if it wasn't Andie will comment on this post and the score will then be 6-0, if it was...well then it was). The strange bit about Alaina being sexist is that she's sexist against women (so she says, I don't believe it, I think it's against mannequins. Don't worry Ellen, we love you, wherever you are).

I need to stop using parentheses. If I use one more, you should stop reading.

No one's going to read my blog anymore. Sad.

Anyway, Alaina is a sexist.

Niall is a minarchist.

Now me.

Well I don't really care for miniature dolls, so I can't join Niall in his box.

And I love mannequins and women, so Alaina will sit in her box alone.

So let's see...what am I?

I am an anglophile.

Well, I do enjoy angel hair pasta. Right angles look pretty cool, too. But I don't enjoy geometry or crumpets. No, I'm not an anglophile.

I am an anthropoid.

No, I don't read many anthologies. Unless I have to. I enjoy full texts. And I know for a fact that I'm made of flesh and blood not wires and metal gears. So, no. Not an anthropoid.

I am suave.

No, I actually use a name brand from CVS. It seems to work best with my hair and body.

This is proving difficult.

I am a rock.

I do have very tough skin (I don't bleed. Period). I do often sit about and appear to do nothing at all. I would guess that if we could master the technique of mind reading, we would discover that rocks think and are most likely over-thinkers. This is true of me. Am I a rock? Wait, I'm not bumpy. No, I am sadly not a rock. Close though. Yeah, I know. I got excited, too.

I am a pirate.

No that's Chris. Why would you think I was a pirate?

I am a merry-go-round.

I do view myself as very colorful. I wear every color (blue, red, gray, black, and white). I enjoy spinning in circles. In fact I keep returning to the same places I've been before (room, work, class, room, caf, room, repeat). Hm. I am a— No. Too gay.

That's it!

I am a lesbian.

Ben Folds just convinced me.

Solved.

Hey look. I stopped using parentheses!