It is my personal belief that everyone should, at some point in their lives, write a short and mostly fictional autobiography. Of course, my own riveting story is entirely true and you should treat it and the facts contained herein as the truth over everything you may have learned previously. And now to begin my story.
I was born on November 29, 1988 to two loving parents who were overjoyed at my arrival. When they stumbled over the burden of naming me, they decided to go and ask a nearby gypsy for guidance. The gypsy, it must be understood, was part of the medical staff. The reason for this strangest of employment choices was that many gypsy children had fallen ill and in case they died, needed someone to perform last rites or secret body mutilation, or whatever it is gypsies do. I'm certainly no expert.
Forgetting for a moment the strangeness of this persons' employment, my parents hurried over and asked the man what I should be called. The gypsy put his hand over my forehead, presumably to divine a name. Then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell over dead as a doornail. It was at this time my parents settled upon "James" which, oddly enough, in the tongue of the gypsies means, "Swedish looking kid who will grow up to be ruggedly handsome and a decent fellow, or maybe bring the world under his control."
My life was that of a normal infant for many years. Like all other children, my parents died of malaria and I was shunted from orphanage to home and back until I was thirteen. It was only then that I began to get an inkling of what lay in store for me.
At that time I was living in a home belonging to Jennifer and William Boehm. Jennifer was a nice lady I recall, but her husband was kind of a dick. But he ignored me for the most part, so it wasn't all bad. I was attending a nearby private school who seemed to set a lot of stock by morals, but refused to teach the children any sort of useful information. I had a few friends at this school and, though I ignored the fact, I was wildly popular. I was forced to turn down proposals of marriage from my entry into the 8th grade and on.
As I sat through my first class of the day on April 23, 2002, I had a premonition. Well, I say premonition because it looks better on paper, but truth be told it was more of a dream. Let us compromise and call it a vision, shall we? In this vision I was running through fields of collard greens which were cut into strange shapes. I soon came across a pair of sausages dancing in the fields. At once I could tell that this was not a happy dance. I knew it to be a dance of mourning. When I approached them to ask what was wrong, they told me in sad voices that they had both recently been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. It was a sad thing to hear, and I joined their mournful dance. As we danced through the collard green fields, the birds singing died away and the Cliffs of Extreme Political Views loomed ahead.
Suddenly, the sausages stopped dancing. They turned to me and thanked me for my company on their journey as they, with smiles on their faces, threw themselves over the cliffs and down onto the sharp rocks below. As I looked down at them, I thought, for whatever reason, that there was something more to life than mourning your sausage friends and began to get an idea of what that might be.
Before I could come to complete realization, I was woken by a loud, electronic sound, signaling that the time had come to switch classes. I left that classroom with much to think about. The meaning of life, dancing sausage, and the fact that two very unbalanced pieces of pig had thrown themselves off a cliff. To this day, I've not forgotten that dream. And it took me years to fully realize its' meaning.
Fast forward to the next big event in my life. Although my entire life is a wonderful example of how one should spend their time and how to become successful, there is not enough time to tell it all. In my early twenties, I was just the sort of person my gypsy name had predicted me to become. I was quite ruggedly handsome and an all around decent sort. It was the early morning of May 22, 2009 that I had another dream.
As my mind left it's bodily shell, it entered another plane of being altogether. As I looked around and surveyed the landscape, I noticed that the grass was entirely and uniformly a robins egg blue while the sky maintained a steady, yet deep shade of green. Before I could notice anything else, a large banana peel floated down from the green firmament and opened, revealing the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She stepped out, came near and spoke in a language I could not understand at quite some length. I must have been there for hours, maybe days. Finally she stepped backward into the banana peel again and floated back to where she had come from. Or maybe her neighbors house. That place held infinite mystery.
Upon rising early (around 3:30am) as is my general practice, I came to know the meaning of the dream. It was surprisingly very short in our language, but this is what I learned:
Enjoy your life, love your friends, cherish your dreams, defend your honor, keep your chin up, and help others along the path.
And thus I have risen from deep slumber to tell you all.
And this is all true. Each word. Remember what I have told you. And make it count for something.
-Neurotically Yours |
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