Who am I?

When we get to know one another, we go through all kinds of bizarre and strange rituals to quickly glean information from one another. We ask each other all kinds of mundane questions:

What's your name?
Where are you from?
Are you going to eat that?
Where do you work?
What's your sign?
Do you have VD?

We meet and greet, network and socialize.
We hobnob, rub shoulders, mingle and fraternize.
We break the ice, take the plunge and pave the way.
We cut the first turf and lay the first stone.

And we do all of this to get the answer to one simple question: Who are you?

So, who am I?

I'm a simply complex, straightforward existential ex-introvert.
I'm time-intensive, current-event savvy, post-modern and in the moment
I find people who claim to have all the right answers,
and I ask them all the wrong questions.

I fidget with widgets, I'm network neutral,
and I overcome knowledge gaps with Digerati apps.
I’m open source, locally active,
and my digital rights cannot be managed.

I only overachieve when I'm undervalued, and I found a new low on the high ground.
I see the upside to insanity and I never downgrade outrageousness.
At the present, I'm in the mood, in the know, in the groove and in the zone.
But in the end, I'm out of time, out of luck, out of sight and out of mind.

I'm politically incorrect, indifferent and inconsequential
I'm too hip to be Right Wing, I'm too square to be Left Wing,
Yet I'm not centrist or reformist.
I stay above the fray, unless you pay me under the table.

But I won't negotiate my morals.
I won't facilitate your agenda.
I won't regurgitate your talking points.
And I won't stimulate your economy.

I've resolved to reject reprehensible remarks that reinforce regressive restraint.
I encase my database and embrace the pace of the race so I can showcase grace in cyberspace
I have misgivings about misguided misinformation from misogynists that misleads the miserable misanthropes,
And I like pie. Mmm! Sweet delicious pie!
Pecan and Blueberry,
Key Lime and Blackberry,
Pie is the opiate of the fat asses.

I'm cool as a cucumber even when I'm hot under the collar.
I sort through the fables, I fight off the labels.
I reject all denominations - especially non-denominational -
and I find mass hysteria to be uniquely hysterical.
So relax, because I'm swine flu-free... ladies

I find that new-age online communities promote old-school off-putting segregation.
I have no book on Facebook,
and I only SuperPoke when I can't reach out and touch someone
I have no space on MySpace,
and all my Top Friends are bottom feeders
I only Twitter when I'm bitter,
I can be long-winded in only 140 characters,
and I'm shut out by employers on LinkedIn.

I'm sensing, judging, thinking and feeling.
I'm melancholic yet sanguine.
My intuitive perception makes me openly agreeable,
and I'm an ENFJ whose conscientiously neurotic.

I'm honest with my Ethos
I emote with my Pathos
I'm logical with my Logos
And my inner child plays with my Legos

I've learned to fake authenticity because I'm humbly pretentious.
Yet, I'm purposefully indifferent and predestined to have free will.
I'm ashamed of my pride because I'm proud of my shame.
I'm industrially idle, ambitiously content and I'm a lazy perfectionist.

So, who am I? My name is Matt.
I'm simply complex. It's as straightforward as that.