ABOUT ME (a sort of narrative):

My first love was literature. From an early age, I wanted to be a writer of (fictional) stories. But in college, instead of majoring in some literary field (e.g., English), which would have been the obvious choice for me, I majored in philosophy, a subject I was very half-hearted about. My reasoning — the headspace I was in at the time — isn't easy (or pleasant) to reconstruct, but, in part, I think my thinking was along the lines of "Those who can, write; those who can't, teach." In other words, I wanted to write literature, not write about literature. (There was no 'creative writing' major at my college, I should note, but even if there had been, I think I would have looked down my nose at it.)

Over time, I've discovered the limitations of my gift for constructing significantly detailed and expanded narratives and fictional worlds. One narrative I could spin about myself developmentally would be about the long unlearning of youthful arrogance, and I think there'd be a great deal of truth to tellings things like that. 

Finding myself now in middle age with few visible accomplishments to my name, I am genuinely humbled; I am forced to reckon with my shortcomings and flaws. My parents (always of a controlling bent) wanted me to be a professor of English (with a focus on Shakespeare, maybe) and all that I am today is a substitute teacher. instead of writing grand, long, Dickensian novels (as I envisioned doing when I was young) I now try my hand at writing modest poems — many quite short, none of them published. I am single and unchilded. In all areas of my life, failure trains me in humility.

What I've written is only a snapshot, or series of snapshots. Don't imagine that you have the full picture. But I wanted to try something different this time and present a narrative of sorts as a method of exhibiting myself.

WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR:

I am looking for talk, first and foremost. Slow, thoughtful talk. Not jittery, ADHD, I-need-to-be-someplace-in-10-minutes-and-can't-stop-multitasking overlappings in time and space, but actual conversations, if they exist anymore. 

And hey, I'm sympathetic to the scarcity of time and attention. We are all ADHD these days, to some degree or other. There is simply too much to think about, etc. Nevertheless, I'm looking for people who have some capacity to sit still.

I am by turns analytical and whimsical. You might think of these as the philosophical and literary sides of my personality, perhaps (see above): I have a side that is analytically serious (philosophical), and a side that is seriously playful (literary or artistic).

My analytical side has been honed by training not just as an undergrad in philosophy, but, more recently, as a teacher of analytical and argumentative writing. (Before dropping out and becoming a substitute teacher, I was in a PhD program in English, where I was given a job teaching Freshman Composition: if you're not familiar, that's a course on critical reasoning and academic writing.)

So, if you are going to get in touch, please don't be an anti-intellectual type. Please be patient with dwelling in uncertainties, with perspective-taking, with steel-manning, with entertaining counterarguments. As I have said, my first love is literature, but over time the cultivation of a capacity for thoughtful analysis and discussion (again, you might call it the philosophical side of me) has become important to me.

As for the literary, artistic side, I also enjoy speculative flights of fancy, playful irony and humor, the pleasures of wordplay and the vivifying phrase. So maybe be open to this.

Ethically, I try to steer by a generalized compassion for human frailty (life is hard) and by a creed of 'epistemic humility' (the one thing I know for certain is that I can always be wrong). I appreciate epistemic humility in others in turn, and a willingness to acknowledge the fact that life is hard. If you decide to contact me, I am hoping you aren't someone who acts like perfection is a realistic goal, and also that you aren't someone who frequently denies and represses the facts of frailty and suffering.

And on that somber note, have a nice day :p