As you regular readers know, I tend to keep my blog rather light and superficial—like me. Minus the light part. So in order to have you get to know me better, I decided to include this introductory page.
I was born very young. Too young to remember much about it, actually. My mom says I was born in Brooklyn, and since my memory is sketchy (see above), I have no choice but to believe her. But you are getting this third hand.
After a few years of living in NYC, my family grabbed a slice of the “American Dream” and we moved to New Jersey. In retrospect, perhaps the name should have been changed to the “American Nightmare”. Or even just “Night Terrors”.
Actually, living in rural New Jersey was great. It was quiet and clean. Which is more than I can say for myself at such an early age. I passed the time playing outside in the mold spores. This led to a lifelong addiction to allergy shots.
When the American Dream became too expensive for this family of Americans, I moved back to New York City. A welcoming committee was there for my return and promptly mugged me for $3.00. I begged them not to beat me up, but they said that would cost an extra $1.00. Not having that kind of money “on me”, I mugged the little kid standing next to me at the time. And so it goes.
High School was a blur. Then I got glasses.
I then went to Albany State University. My parents took advantage of this time alone to rediscover their relationship and move to an undisclosed address. This would have bothered me to no end, but I was too busy failing classes. Somehow, I earned a diploma. Or maybe it was just a return-trip bus ticket. I forget which. In any event, it still hangs above my desk in the basement.
After college, I began a career teaching elementary school children. I liked every aspect of the job except two: teaching and young children. A change of career was in order.
Falling back on my subscription to Psychology Today magazine (which was still active at the time), I found some barely reputable house of learning and earned a graduate degree in School Psychology. I wrote a thesis on Why Some Adults Hate Teaching, Hate Young Children, And Yet Become Elementary School Teachers, using a sample of one.
Oh yeah, somewhere in the middle of all that I got married.
Shortly after starting my current, illustrious career, I had a child. Well actually, my wife had the child. I have to admit that I became quite jealous of all the attention she was receiving and all the fun she appeared to be having during childbirth. But then came the postpartum depression.
Which I, to this day, still think sounds like some kind of breakfast cereal.
In any event, the entire experience was so rewarding, I insisted we have another child right away. My wife countered by insisting that I have the child this time. Thus began the most frustrating interval of my life: secondary infertility.
Fortunately, my wife has always been a woman who believes that if you want anything done right, you have to do it yourself. But thankfully, she let me watch. Nine months later, we finally had a scapegoat for our first child.
I must admit though, I was disappointed to learn that scapegoats never grow horns.
Fast forward 12 1/2 years, and that brings you to the present day. And the moment I express my jealousy at you for owning a functioning time machine.