I would like to start this blog with a story. This is one of my favorite stories to tell because it paints an accurate picture of my general goofiness. One day in middle school, I decided to start a new show – Lost, I think – on Netflix. I noticed the title of the first episode was “Pilot.” A few weeks before that I had restarted the show Supernatural. The first episode of this was also called “Pilot.” I, being young and lacking common sense, thought it was the craziest thing that two shows had the same title for the first episode. I was a curious kid, so I mentioned it to my dad – who of course started laughing. I was confused, but I began laughing as well after he explained to me the concept of a “pilot episode.”
I love telling that story not only because of the silliness, but because I always give way more information than necessary when I tell stories and that one is a prime example. My dad used to always tell me to just “get to the point,” but I never really got any better at that. You see, my brain is a not a one-way street. My head functions as a busy intersection in New York City with bumper-to-bumper traffic, needless honking, taxi drivers reading the newspaper on their steering wheels, and pedestrians braving the crosswalks. Telling a story is a process, and I need to tell you every detail so you can possibly come a little closer to feeling what I am trying to show you.
I say all of that to say this: I titled this blog The Enigma That I Am because I am in fact an enigma that no one will ever understand, not even myself. An enigma is a noun used to describe something or someone which is mysterious or difficult to understand. So there you have it. If you actually take the time to read this blog, you will begin to put the puzzle pieces together, but I’ve been working on this puzzle for 19 years and I still have millions of parts to discover.