When I first showed up here at PD I had basically just decided to dive in and see what would come of it. I had a head full of preconceived ideas about Discordianism, that mainly proved WRONG, and a heart full of agendas that have since proven unworkable or that I need much greater maturity to enact. And some few that I realized were BAD IDEAS, thanks to this place and it's denizens, even if I could get them off the ground.
Moreover I was in the throes. The Goddess Eris had really worked me over good. My head was quite firmly wedged twixt my butt cheeks but not totally up my ass. She's such a peach. These days I feel I've extricated myself, but still stand as a bit of a shithead.
I portrayed myself as what I imagined myself or hoped to be, not what I am. I won't call this a mistake anymore than I would call puking at a wild party a mistake. I had the poison in me, did it to myself. Had I missed the metaphorical bucket THAT could have been tragic. For me. Just another day at the bus stop for the regulars here.
There's a lot that I've learned about the folks here just by reading what's been shared. I have not truly reciprocated much to date and have no wish to just be some creeper that pops in and out.
So here's who I am.
I'm a dude from Wisconsin. I'm the product of multiple improbable circumstances wrapped up in a plain paper bag.
My mom descended from a long line of mostly Irish trash and suffered a shattered home, several tragic deaths, and much abuse before being taken in by very loving, if somewhat ignorant, Iowa Baptist foster parents. I have many scattered cousins and half or full aunts and uncles all over the country on her side. I'm not very close with most.
My dad was born to a Roman Protestant Mason father (figure THAT one out) and a nondenominational Sicilian mother(a match ONLY in America) that had been excommunicated from the Catholic Church for marrying a sonofabitch and shortly after deciding to divorce him to save herself. She moved from Jersey to Wisconsin where they met. My dad's parents stayed together until Death kept his appointments. It was not peaceful or easy, but it was familia. A big one, boomer generation style.
My folks raised me and my 2 younger brothers, 18 months and 3.5 years younger, as well as they could. It is said that parenting is the last great profession left exclusively to amateurs. They did their best to keep up with the Joneses in boomer fashion and raise nice little super babies. It didn't last long, but in our early years my brothers and I got better education than most by far.
I was weaned on classical music, baby books on anatomy and science, the B.I.B.L.E. and also folklore from around the world read to me as a child by my dad. My folks had purchased a huge encyclopedic set for the purpose long since lost. I got as much Childe Roland, Jack the Giant Killer, and Japanese or African fables as I did David and Goliath etc.
I could identify what season from Vivaldi's Four Seasons was playing in kindergarten. I knew my larynx from my esophagus, and that skin was called a dermis. I knew not to run widdershins around a church three times unless you really meant it. I knew God loved me and everyone and that He was down for some serious giant slaying.
My parents had lovingly built a freak and I had trouble as soon as I had to mix with the genpop in public school.
More later... as I can.
