 ©1999-1999 ICFTP What're you, kidding? |
The color of the sky in my world
Height:
6' smidge
Weight:
170 lbs.
Hair:
Dirty blond (or should that go under lifestyle?)
Bra Size:
Whatever fits on my head
Age:
31 (June 5th 1967. High Gemini. Audience: "Hi Nick!")
Piercings:
One (ear)
Eyesight:
Yes (blue)
Sexual Orientation:
Straight (but not narrow)
Political Affiliation
Non-partisan (But very political)
Biggest Mistake:
Blue star ointment (Ask me once you get to know me)
Best Learning Experience:
Failure (It gets my attention better. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Pay attention to pain. It's trying to tell you something.)
Most Awful Sexual Gaffe:
One of my better learning experiences.
Biggest Waist Size
34 (not bad for a 31yr old)
I'm Nick. The fact that I have an adjective for a name has not escaped me. It could be worse. French Fry Legs for instance. Monkey Danger for example. All of these would be more difficult to live with. I live reasonably well with Nick. It's not my name, though.
I was born (at a very early age) Edward Everett Nicholas Jr. That's a mouthful. It took me seven years before I realized it was my name. It was almost like it was too much to digest all at once. Like a fat cow in a pool of piranhas though, you eventually get to the heart of the matter. Nice to meet you.
If you've read this far, you've probably got too much time on your hands. If you finish the page it removes all doubt. That's probably unfair though. I'm the one writing it.
That's half of what this site is all about really. Writing it. The other half would be reading it (I'm talking about you again, but I smile when I do it). We've already lived it. We'd like to share it now. We'd like to share it with you. Exciting isn't it? Because despite that fact that we've all got too much time on our hands, I'd like to think of us as using it wisely. What we share is true. Beautiful, wonderful, ugly, painful truth. It may be the most important thing. We may be full of shit. Lets find out.
At thirty-one I make a good 18 year old. I joke(?) to my friend that I should have waited to start college until now. Now I write copy and ads for a large music company, amongst other things. I don't feel at all responsible though. Let me rephrase that. I can't believe that anyone around me sees me as a responsible person. When I go to vote I get the weird feeling that one of the pollster will suddenly point at me and declare, "Who the hell let HIM in here?!? Get him! Get him for the sake of the future or we're finished!" It hardly ever happens though.
I get carded for cigarettes. I get too drunk at parties. I balance my checkbook like a fat waiter on roller skates. There, I've pissed some of you off already. Tell you what though, call me a child with a spotlight complex and lets get on with it.
Getting on with it I must say that I never understood much of my childhood. The racism and bias of those around me never made sense, or rubbed off. I just couldn't understand. What's that? How can I say that after I've just made a fat joke? You're going to be a rough crowd. Ok, lets talk about that. It's not really a digression is it?
I though it was funny. That's it. That's all. I make fun of myself too. Hey, Steve Martin said it best, "Comedy is not pretty. You're always making fun of something." In addition I'd like to say, the moment you have an opinion, you have an enemy too. So do I think fat is funny? Sure I do (sorry Richard). We're all funny. Here I'll quote him and make it better. "My scale is only a tool to measure my progress. It is not a measure of who I am." -- R. Simmons
There. I notice you're still here. You're either waiting for an email address to throw a rock at, or you think this is interesting. I'm not sure I know which I would be yet if I were you. I am sure this honesty thing is harder than it looks.
This is getting damn lengthy. I'll hasten it up. I was born on a farm (pigs, chickens, cows...the usual) in Mobile. I've lived in other places I'll mention later (Seattle was nice) and I'm back here for now. I went to a military Academy here in Mobile from 1st-8th grade and then to public school because my parents couldn't afford the bill anymore. Public schools in Alabama are very nearly useless. They're fairly good daycare, though.
When I graduated I went to the University of South Alabama, another fine daycare establishment (for someone in the communinications field). I studied P.R. for money, poetry, literature, and history because I thought they were important. I sometimes joke that my life is an attempt to support my poetry habit. After an argument with my parents (2 quarters into my college career) I joined the Coast Guard to pay for college. Through a bizarre series of coincidences I ended up studying anti-terrorism. THAT was really damned weird and not really something I would have chosen. More on that later.
I got my degree after a brief stint of 7 years (shut up) and moved to Seattle after a really bad relationship. Life was good. It was as if I had just discovered that life could buzz you, and I was drunk with the excellent greed of it all. Grunge was at its peek and we were really stomping on the terra! I had a ponytail and for the first time in my life felt good in a way that can only be achieved by chronic caffeine consumption. Then Kurt Cobain died. I had nothing to do with it. I even went to the candlelight vigil. It pissed me off. I felt he had taken the coward's way out in a game that we all have to play. I felt I had been robbed of something without knowing what it was. Everywhere around me I could tell that something had changed. You could see the ending of something in the eyes of every kid you passed on the street. It was over and I felt awkward now instead of drunk. I felt I had to roll off of Seattle like she was a girl that I'd slept with and really didn't know. There was nothing left to do but put my clothes back on and and say, "That was great. I had a really good time but I have to go now."
Of course there was the fact that my ex-fiancée in Mobile had sold most of my worldly belongings for a few hundred bucks so she could move to Canada to and live with her new boy. Phah! Canadians. Never trust a country that makes good whiskey. There now, I've pissed more of you off. You guys play good hockey though.
I moved back here. It was hot so I cut my hair. Mobile and long hair go together like homophobe and an enema. It had to go, plus, I needed a job in a bad way. THAT I got at a bookstore. After a couple of years Mobile discovered coffee and the bookstore opened up a cafe'. I got the job as manager and eventually became a barista (it's like a wine somilair but with coffee).
One day I got a phone call. It was my current boss. She asked me if I wanted a job and I said, "Whadda ya got?" She didn't know, but she knew that she wanted to hire me. We made the job up and she gave it to me. My first professional job. I had never even applied for it. Seems TREY had put in a good word. Thanks Trey...I think. Life has been altogether more complex in the past 1 1/2 since I've been working there than I could have possibly imagined. Good though.
Then there's Amy. Light of my life. I don't dare go into her here. I'd be writing all night. You'll have to wait until later for that.
So...that's me, I suppose. Doesn't do me justice, but then again neither does spandex. I live in an altogether strange place with strange people whom I have grown to love dearly. Not with the greedy passion that I loved Seattle with, but a wiser more sober (metaphorically anyway) thing that can come only from knowing someone closely. The color of the sky in my world isn't so easily described in one breath. No one's is. I'll tell you what I know and conjecture on the rest. What I'm REALLY counting on though...is what you can tell me about the sky. Looking up, I can't help but notice it's over your head too. Let me know.