Not Really an Ego Thing.

Over the last year and a half (approximately) I’ve been going through a torturous and tortuous process of self-discovery – dropping the role playing and all that. It wasn’t really a matter of choice; life just...sort of...grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and forced my face into the mirror (I think it’s why I’ve become more enamoured of her lately.)

So I thought I’d jot down the first twelve characteristics that tripped off the top of my head. This isn’t an ego thing, you understand. It’s just that I like to make a post before going to bed and couldn’t think of anything else.

Ready? Ahem...

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I’m given to optimism and the pursuit of hopeless fantasies. Not so much Walter Mitty, more Don Quixote.

I feel everything, from a cold north wind to a woman’s rejection, very keenly.

I’m inclined to trust people until given reason not to.

The best time to engage with me is between about midnight and 3am.

I’m the living proof that having a high IQ is no guarantee of sensible behaviour.

I like comfort but hate opulence.

I talk too much, and the best way to throw me off balance is not to talk back.

I’m more aware of my faults and weaknesses than my good points, although I realise I have a few.

I get very impatient with people who think they know what life is about.

I can be surprisingly brave in some circumstances, and a complete wimp in others.

I still don’t know what Wi-Fi means.

I have a lot in common with dogs and wind-up toys.

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That’s twelve. I could have gone on, and on, and on.

Bed.