I apologize in advance for this post, as it may tend toward a deep-ish, reflective tone that would undoubtedly be better suited to a 16-year old's MySpace page than to a blog that no one reads (yet).
Many people have told me I'm not a typical guy (anatomically and gender-wise, I'm pretty sure I've got the proper junk in my trunk if you catch my drift). That I'm in touch with my "feminine side" and when my friends talk about the ass-men, they graciously add a footnote excepting me. But am I really so different from my card-carrying bretheren? This brings me to what I really want to ask here: who am I?
A tough question, right? "You're a child of God!" is one answer, which I am intimitely familliar with (believe me). "You're a friend." is another which, while heart-warming, is less than filling (like a double cheeseburger). "You're Rylan." which has been, by far, the simultaneously best and worst answer of the bunch.
My own answer-in-a-minute-or-less? I am whoever I want people to see. I'm trying to get a girl to like me? I become polite, engaging, and employ nearly every social tool at my disposal in the hopes of one day (between now and before I die) doing my own rendition of the Tango Maureen. Dinner with my cousin or close friends? I'm one sarcastic sonofabitch with a near-permanent smile and awful repartee.
And that, dear friends, is some deep, anthropomorphic blargh.
