Self promotion?Funny thing about that…

So now you think its simple right?Put yourself out there and find the one true love of your life amidst all the failings, and the shallow, self involved people, who could not walk past a reflective surface without checking their hair, teeth and whether those jeans do in fact make their butt look big. It never gets easy to get past the past and remain present when you really don’t have a great feeling about the future, but in the end we go forward of our own accord, or just float like so much atomic debris pressed into the shape of someone who once could have made more of such an astounding Physics, Chemistry and Biological collaboration. The world turns, time continues and tomorrow is ever present, so take your break; wallow, wail and worry. Then get up, dust yourself off and plan, proceed and procure, thing are only as bad as you let them remain.

So now, I was saying it may well be time to strap on a bedazzling butchers smock and hit the meat market, and whilst I have in historical context been terribly dense and rather useless at such endeavours I figure its all about the marketing, the P.R., the ‘Spin Factory’. Therefore I think I might have to predraft a Bio for a dating site, as well as rehearse lines of some cogent and subtly tweaked facts to cover up my own individual brand of crazy.

(Hey we all have those indivisibly unique extensions of our psyche that make us,US! My own patent pending, copyrighted, no animal testing, all natural ingredients, secret taste test winner style of nutso is only as weird as yours and and everybody else’s!)

So lets start with the kind of person I am internally, as I am sure that a picture of me will be able to do for a thousand words unsaid and most likely unnecessary as people make their own subjective analysis and appraisal.

hmmm.Personality then?

Quiet really. Almost painfully en-seamed in my own company, not through anti-social tendencies but simply due to uncertainty of conversational boundaries, basic socialisation and childhood practices of being either ignored or shunned. Things are not so now truthfully, but the imprint of finding my own devices and modes of entertainment is still more visible than a watermark on a note you need to hold up to the light.

I am that guy who writes words to see how they fit with other words, not simply because I am trying to say something, but because I want to say something, and I want to say it in a way that is endemically expressive. Yet here is the aberration; I do not need to share it, I just need to have it expressed. My words are long and on occasion unnecessarily pedantic or even archaic, but I love my words for the same reason I love music. It moves me and promotes itself when it is done with style. This may seem pretentious and aggrandising but in fact I do it purely and only for the love of the words themselves, not to sound superior or smarter.  I hate misspelled words, misused grammar, and misapplied structure.(Through laziness and apathy not through simple unknowing) I am far far far from perfect and the most annoyed and angry I get is when I myself make the mistake.

So lets call that… Particular towards procedure. Perfectionist? (I am trying for a term that sounds definitively positive here.) Overt achiever?

I have a tree in the front yard, grown to enormous proportions, that I am allergic to its sap. If a thorn breaks the skin, the area around the wound goes numb and then eventually red, swollen and itchy. Yet I will trim and maintain its dimensions simply because my Grandmother planted it and loved it so.

I will eat peanut butter on and in almost anything, failing that just by itself with a spoon. So far the no go areas have been very few.Trust me; it is not a condimentary complimentary pairing you want with Smoked salmon.

I walk around my house reading poetry aloud. (Its all about the tone you believe it to be, not how you hear it.) I am an avid marginalian, almost all of my books have pencil notes, pieces of paper, dog ears or cross references. Only the special editions are unscathed. I listen to musical numbers on my iPod while I work out very vigorously, and have danced and sung (badly) ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ with a lovely pair of older ladies on a putting green whilst practicing.

Does that go under quirky?We can add that for a few items but no, lets label that as ’endearing qualities’.

I am an overachieving failure. An uneducated intelligent individual, who has an insatiable curiosity and a potential forever unrealised. I am the eternal uncultivated cultural debutante looking for that one moment to shine, whilst letting all the others slip by unheeded.

I have sailed in storms, fought in Thailand, ultra marathon-ed in New Zealand, mountain bike raced for 24hrs, hit the peaks to Everest Base Camp, been dragged behind a felucca in the Nile, motorbiked at 300km an hour, been an infantry gunner in the army, hung with an Emmy winner (multiple), sparred with UFC fighters and World Champion Kick-boxers, survived an attack with a knife, been sexually and physically assaulted when I was a child, had my shoulder dislocated 7 times and have a total so far of 9 broken bones, no fillings and never once smoked or done a single illicit drug in my life. I have been drunk 8 times, though not until I was 21 and over. I am an organ donor who believes in giving people their moneys worth, so I take care of things internally. (I also mean that I have given my heart away twice, but luckily did receive it back both times for a little care and repair.)

I will promise anything to my friends and loved ones, and I will do everything I can to follow through on that, but cannot do the same to myself, because I respect my friends but have trouble dredging that feeling up for myself.

I can play a little piano, a little guitar and a lot of scrabble, and I love golf, not the least because it is the one thing me and my brother have a great bond in and the best of time doing; no matter who wins, the weather on the day or the condition of the course.

This became something it was not. This blog post was written in a single sitting. It is a complete exodus of thought, a diaspora of diatribe towards my own internal self appraisal, yet it became a tool to realise my own simplistic and not too gracious belief in myself.

Wow! So far none of this comes across as someone who would be on a dating site. Can you guess why? Because the truth of it is this. I may be alone,which, although seems to be a default setting for me, is not something I find satisfying. I dislike not being able to come home to a home, rather than simply an abode. I believe in love despite all the evidence to its unsuitableness for me. I am physical and crave intimacy, but will not fit in a nights worth of tactile desires, for a lifetime of emotional and mental regret. I do not give my heart cheaply. When I find someone deserving, my love is a verb, an adjective, a subject and a noun, it is in every line of every word, it is the grammar of my speech and the syntax of my prose. It possesses qualities of itself and of the object of intent. It is honored and comitted to.It is devotion implemented as the deepest part of ones-self. So yeah.

I do not do online dating. I do not troll singles bars.

I say let love find me.

Let it find me waiting not wanting.

Let it find me in the capacity not of my devising or editing. Let it be spontaneous and sudden and shocking and true. But let it be forever.

Let it find me filling my life with those things that will make me add to someones life, not divide it.

Let me be a catch, not something to throw away.

Let it find me.

And when it does…

Well, when it does, I will promise it, her, and even myself, to be worth it;                       whatever ‘it’ may bring.