The Self-Absorbed Man in Isolation

At the risk of being perpetually self analytical, I'm gonna tell you a little about my childhood:

I was born in upstate New York. My family lived there until I was 6 or 7 when we moved to north eastern Connecticut; Woodstock to be precise. I can't speak for other places as I only grew up where I did. But it seems to me there is something unique about that corner of the world. The populace is very aware of their history - a history riddled with superstition and witch burning. At all times you are surrounded by thick vegetation and dark forest and are told early on to be in by dusk.

Woodstock also prides itself on having the last "active" one-room schoolhouse. Every year in public elementary school each grade spent a few weeks in there. You were required to dress in late 1800s period garb, learned to write with ink and quill and played all those colonial games that you see in reenactment movies. Thinking back sometimes it feels like I have a vision of a previous life: the happy, young Pilgrim boy who one day disappeared into the woods never heard from again.

My parents rented a big, yellow cube of a house. It was huge. We rented from the owner of Woodstock's (at the time) only manufacturing facility. They made foot switches for sewing machines among other things. The owner was an eccentric rich woman in her mid to late forties. Her husband had died and left her everything including the mansion on the hill, the switch factory a small boy scout camp, a 3 star restaurant and our yellow house - all of which were on the same thousands of acres piece of land I considered my personal playground.

My one sibling is my sister. I've mentioned her before - the one who had the accident. At this time she was pretty and popular and had no interest in hanging out with her geeky little brother. So I spent the majority of my time alone. I had friends; I wasn't an outcast or anything. But living in a place where it was a hike to get to the neighbor's house left me and my friends at the mercy of our parents. Geographically challenged, I'd like to say.

I learned very quickly to entertain myself, a talent I possess to this day. I spent endless hours tromping around the woods by myself - scouting locations for GI Joe adventures and building forts and shit. I spent a lot of time inside my own head.

Let's us consider this the end of act 1. I can't spend all day reminiscing... The bills must be paid and stuff. But now I've gone and started, so finish I must. Act 2 soon to come.