You know, I've been myself for about 20 years as of tomorrow, and yet I still don't exactly know what being me means. I guess part of it is that I know very little about my family's ancestry. Increasingly, I have been curious about the lives (and deaths) of my long-dead ancestors, specifically before they came to the North American Continent. To this very day, I have very little connection with those ancients, and thus have very little feeling of cultural identity outside of general American norms. I think it would be really cool to be born into some obscure but colorful tradition, with its own heroes and myths, and above all, flavor. I know my ancestors came over from England and Scotland, but I would like to know more than that. Did they have some sort of clan tartan? Some sort of clan traditions that could have been passed down? Apparently, if they did, those traditions did not survive much past arrival in the "New World." Today, I was looking through this website that actually had me listed in the family tree. Oddly enough, while my brother and sister had all the pertinent information about when and where they were born, all that was listed for me was "ABT 1982." Suddenly I began to question everything I thought I knew about myself. To the best of my knowledge, I was born on November 14, 1982 in Houston, Texas. However, this new information kinda' threw me for a loop. Am I really what I have thought myself to have been all along? Could I have been adopted? I really have no idea. Basically, this is all rather odd for me.

Tomorrow is my birthday (hint, hint, to all you who actually read this page). This calls for a rousing "Huzzah." Huzzah!