Hmm. Perhaps I ought to take the 'Bio' demand at face value for once.
I was born in a small town in northern California on the first of July, 1982, and my family moved to Iowa in January of 1984. This makes me of legal age in every country on the planet, therefore I am an adult. I can cuss if I fucking want to - if this offends you, fuck off. I learned how to swear by listening to my father. Dad had a helluva temper, which was most often expressed in highly creative strings of cussing. You really don't want to know why I still laugh every time I hear 'rubber duck'. Really, you don't.
I learned how to read long before I started school; I didn't learn phonics, so I have trouble spelling. I learned how to recognize a word as a whole, not by its individual parts, so if a word looks to be the right shape, then it's spelled right. It wasn't until the advent of spell-check that I realized that I was really bad at putting the right letters together, even though I could write pretty well.
I hated school simply because I was always the smartest one in all my classes. The only reason I didn't pull straight-As was because I rarely did homework (what can I say, it was BORING). I did a book report on Jean Auel's 'Clan of the Cave Bear' in second grade. I think it scared the teacher because I ended up having to talk to a social worker. What's really funny about this is that though I was reading adult books by the time I was seven, I didn't read Harry Potter until after I turned twenty - how screwed up is that? As could be expected, I never really had many friends; I was smart, fat, my family had no money, and we always lived out in the country. During my elementary career, I wanted to die or kill something, still not sure which.
Halfway through my fourth grade year, we moved far enough that I had to switch schools. Having my hopes that maybe the new school wasn't going to be as horrible as the old completely destroyed less than ten minutes into my first class was enough to convince me that the real world completely sucked. I began reading more than ever before. In fifth grade, I ended up with a teacher who was a total cunt. She assumed that since I wasn't from a wealthy family that I wasn't worth her time. I don't suppose it helped matters much when I told her that she was wrong and just plain stupid in front of the entire class (she was teaching 'I seen' as proper English. NOT RIGHT. It's either 'I have seen' or 'I saw').
My junior high and high school were in the same building, so I tend to think of that time all as simply 'high school'. Seventh grade through twelfth. The school district I was in didn't allow for skipping grades (some bullshit about developmental problems stemming from being younger than one's classmates - fuck them. I was older in my head than they ever could be), but did allow for advanced-placement math (yeah, JUST math). I ended up taking ninth-grade algebra in eighth grade. The teacher was a total bitch and couldn't teach for shit. I studied my ass off and only pulled a C-average in her class. When I tried to explain to her that I didn't need to show my work on word problems because I could see the answer in my head, she made me talk to the school shrink; after reading the chapter on polynomial factoring, and telling her that it didn't make any sense, she had me re-read the chapter, when I insisted that it still made no sense, she told me to talk to one of the kids in the class who she had SEEN bully me (needless to say, he refused to help) because she was too fucking lazy to explain things more clearly. The following year, in Geometry, I had a lot of fun. This was math I could do, because I could SEE it. Same thing with trig. Then algebra two came up and I was back with the bitch. I hate her still.
In ninth through twelfth grades, I worked my ass off to do the only 'skipping' allowed by the school district - so, on January 15, 2000, I graduated a full semester early. Yay for me.
I went to Cornell College the following fall and had an easy time for about a week. Then the homesickness set in and I took up smoking. By the end of the spring term of my sophomore year, I was depressed, lonely, and seriously contemplating jumping of the nearest high place. I withdrew from school and got a job. From the summer of '02 until June 28th of '05, I had managed to completely ruin my credit, had two checking accounts closed (damn math), been evicted once, abandoned a run-down trailer house I'd bought (after significant storm-damage made a condemned notice a distinct possibility), gone through four jobs, and had my driver's license suspended for failure to pay some uninsurance tickets. During that same time, I made two of the closest friends I've ever had, but both moved to other cities within months of each other. My dad also died unexpectedly during that time. With no real friends, no job, and no license, I hung my head in shame and moved back in with my mom, where I remain to this day.
In June of '08 we moved to El Paso, Texas - a move totaling nearly 1300 miles. It didn't change much in my life, other than I know I can go to bed and not be woke up by my sister and her family at the drop of a hat.
I still only have two real-life friends that I speak to with any regularity, I still read too much, I still smoke, and I feel like a total loser for still living with my mother. I have no significant other (and living with Mom, no hopes for one). My only escape from this hell is reading and writing, so that's what I do with nearly all my time. That, and play the Sims 2 - it's nice pretending I have a life, even if it's in a computer game.
So, yeah. That's my life in a nutshell. Sucks to be me.