I started out ranting and raving like a lunatic (funny, I think I am). It was nice to vent. Any little thing that crossed my mind was fair game, but not anything from my "real life." Nothing about my friends and my relation to them.

Then, it became a confessional. A little more personal, a better glimpse into my mind (as much as I can describe it). Still, virtually nothing about my "real life". Nothing at all about my friends and my relation to them.

Heh . . . you probably see where I'm going with this. I'll just cut to the chase:

I live in the Pacific Northwest (Portland, Oregon, to be specific). I'm originally from the Chicago suburbs. I moved here almost thirteen years ago. Except for a brief, two-year stint back in the Chicago suburbs (when I started this diary), I've lived here ever since.

The two-year stint back home was breakdown-induced. It was, supposedly, my chance to clean up and act like the responsible adult I am. Anyone who read the previous post knows how well that's working for me.

I've "dated" a few women. I literally don't remember enough of that period of my life to give an accurate count. It's probably in the 15-20 range. I'm not attractive, or even fit, but I'm smart, funny, and the biggest romantic sap you've ever met. It worked well for me, but not enough to have any long-term relationships. I've had two of those.

Just two. I'm thirty-three.

The end result of those two long-term relationships? I have two best friends, both women. Both times, they left me. Both times, no matter what they say, I suspect the reason was the same.

You see, I AM crazy. I'm self-destructive. I fail, at every opportunity, to "live up to my potential." Watching me break down on a regular basis, if you really love me, has got to take its toll. In a very strange sense, I seem self-involved (it takes a lot of concentration on self to appear "normal"). You can see what a "catch" I am.

Just to side-track for a moment, I'd like to point out an irony that just isn't fair: All I have going for me in this world is my mind. Guess what's broken . . .

Anyway, I have two women best friends. Both are exes. If I ever get married, I'll be hard-up for a "Best Man," but any marriage I involve myself in will be a little unorthodox anyway.

Interesting fact: One is a college professor, one is going back to school to be a college professor. One, however, is a science professor, while the other wants to be a professor of mythology.

And here I am never having completed college . . .

So, that's a little about my life. I'll have to come up with names for them, I suppose, that protect their anonymity. But, I will leave that for another time . . .

Peace be with you, kats and kittens.