How to make this as simple as possible. Introductions can always tend to get bogged down by facts that really do not matter, or are terribly uninteresting, or only come to light after 300 pages of a reader's involvement. I don't have that kind of memory to intertwine so intricately the facts of my life, so I promise to keep it simple. In my humble opinion, nothing can simplify the human experience like bureaucratic forms.

Name: Seth
Age: 22
Sex: Check box titled M
Race: Check box titled Caucasian

Is there any more data entry than that? I suppose it depends on the forms; If I'm a smoker: check here -- If I am pregnant: check here -- If I've been convicted of any crime other than a traffic violation check here -- If yes; then please explain on the three lines provided below--



Have I ever smoked marijuana? -- How many drinks do I consume on a weekly basis -- 1-2 -- 4-5 -- 7 or more-- (Too much drinking can be problematic, so let's measure it out by increments. Never measure marijuana intake though. Yes is bad. No is good. As simple as Binary. 1 2 1 2 1 2 1 2 2 1.

I always check that I have black (BLK) hair, but my driver's permit debates that my hair is brown (BR). The clerk always chooses those themselves, and my official license concurs with me. (BLK). My eyes are (BLU), which is biologically indisputable, although I say they are grey (N/A) instead. Because I'm like that.

I filled out a lot of these forms the year I was 22. The example presented above (imagine huge grey EXAMPLE type printed over it so you couldn't photocopy it and pretend to be me), is, disclaimer behind this comma, from the past. Am I 22 in the present? I always feel that I will never leave 22 behind me. That year of doubled doubles, if 1 is one, than 11 is one meeting one's nefarious doppelganger, will never leave me. I always live in fear that it will descend upon me and I will be perpetually condemned into that loop: 22 22 22 22 22

Twenty-Two - repeat it enough times with any attempt at rhythm and it sounds like a heart beat. Melodramatic presentation of line: I tried to stop that heart beat.
With more gravity this time: I did. (Trying is implied with the tone this time. Show, don't tell.)

Try my hardest. Which is why I had to fill out so many of those damn forms. To prove to some person I was living. Living vicariously through rank your pain and penance charts.

Circle whatever concerns you have. 1 being lowest, 5 being highest. Circle N/A for not applicable (Nothing is not applicable, you are just in denial.)

Finances - 1 2 3 4 5 n/a
Suicide (of self or loved one) - 1 2 3 4 5 n/a
Substance Abuse - 1 2 3 4 5 n/a
Living Situation - 1 2 3 4 5 n/a
Sexual Orientation - 1 2 3 4 5 n/a
Sexual Abuse - 1 2 3 4 5 n/a
Domestic Abuse - 1 2 3 4 5 n/a
Traumatic Childhood - 1 2 3 4 5 n/a

And it goes on and on forever, with every single thing one can, cannot and most times will not think of. I always wondered what would happen if a person was to check 5 on every single one. They would probably not be taken seriously, or asked to fill out the 1-10 chart reserved for case studies. The mind wonders...where am I going with this.

We are here: For wanting to place myself in a box (One of physical construction: Cheap pine in desperate times, or so I read) I was asked (and somewhat forced (although I hate to use that word) because of ethical and legal constraints) (Fuck grammar constraints) to place myself in numerous boxes (of social/epistemological construct) to open boxes (praise be to Pandora) of my own to complete strangers. While these boxes were being opened they were being displaced into the bigger box that we would throw into the attic ominously labeled "22" in black sharpie.

Imagine we are now sitting in that attic, with its singular circular window overlooking the freshly mowed lawn. It's a summer day, and the window is cracked to allow some of the pent up heat of July leak through it. Preventive ventilation. We are as naked as Adam and Eve in this attic, and just as uncaring of our nude state. Sit with me as we blow the dust off of the cardboard folds over the top and reach our hands into the black void, oblivious to what treasures we will grasp, but always with prudent care my dear. Something, like a mouse, or worse - may have nested in the box and grasp for us instead.