N: my one thousand word life-span

I'll be entirely honest about my life, which has been quite
interesting so far.

I remember very little from my early childhood. The main memory that
comes to mind was a vivid hallucination somewhere around the age of
six.

I had developed an utter terror of a witch doll that we kept in the
kitchen. My dad called this witch, "the kitchen witch".

One night, I was watching "The Wizard of Oz" in the living room with
my older brother and my dad and I went to get some popcorn. No sooner
had I stepped into the kitchen, when the witch sailed down from the
wall where she was hung and started shrieking at me and running back
and forth across the floor. Naturally, I fled in terror.

Throughout my life this incident has fascinated me because I perceived
this witch doll coming to life in the same way that I would perceive
anything else that's real. If I could see, hear, smell and just
generally experience the kitchen witch coming to life, who's to say the
kitchen witch wasn't real?

I had a dull time in Elementary School, but these years were much
brightened by the many great books I read. I read many history books
and many of the greatest novels ever written. Two books that
particularly shaped my intellect at this time were "Robinson Crusoe" by
Daniel Defoe and "The Count of Monte Christo" by Alexandre Dumas.

Little did I know that ,at my young age, books had made me part of an
elite, ancient and advanced civilization. My mind was being formed in
the same way as hundreds of the greatest leaders from millennium back.
I also didn't suspect that the great books were forming my mind to fit
into a culture that had entirely disappeared. I'm referring to the
imperialistic, Christian, European-dominated society of the Roman
Empire through World War I.

When did my life become so interesting? When did this joyous person
that I am really come to be? I couldn't tell you. It's all rather
blurry. I don't remember my life the way lives are usually written
about in books.

I remember taking a Yoga class with my step-mom in my freshman year of
high-school. One day, I was dressed in a t-shirt and purple sweat
pants. I felt rather feminine and scared of life. While the yoga
teacher led us through the stretches and my stiff body tried to follow
her, I was contemplating suicide. There and then, I resolved to kill
myself.

But shortly after, life turned up for me. I changed my mind about
suicide and moved on with my life. After I lived through deciding to
kill myself, I was a much stronger, happier person.

I went to a public high school. I spent every lunch-time in the
library in a quiet, secluded back room. I always felt lonely. But I
also felt contemplative. While I ate my unchanging, packed lunch, I
would contemplate all of the great questions of the world.

I bare my soul to you. There's nothing I wouldn't tell the reader if I
felt it to be of interest. But my many romantic relationships are truly
a bore. Girls have been a constant object of my love and lust but
haven't interested me much.

In high school choir, the choir was being conducted by a female
assistant teacher. She was very authoritarian. She would have this
hundred-person choir stand up all at once. And if one immature idiot
talked while we stood up, the assistant would have everybody sit back
down and then stand back up. Often, she would do this repeatedly. You
could just smell her pleasure over her domination of the choir.

One day, she told the whole choir to stand up. Some kid must have
talked while we were standing up because she then told everybody to sit
down. I remained standing. She told me to sit down. I said "no." The
whole class burst out laughing at my act of defiance. Mostly, they were
laughing at the teacher.

Similar acts of rebellion have been a major part of my life. They've
been my own small stands for liberty. My paltry refusal to sit down and
stand up for a sadistic choir teacher represents my discontent with our
own petty, conformist society. I would like to see my refusal to sit
down writ large across our mammoth society.

In later high school, I started writing a column for the city paper. I
would write my opinions on various local happenings and issues. I tried
to keep my column up-beat. I'm an optimist.

I'm also a charlatan. Because I was paid by the word, I would write
unnecessarily long articles.

The people of Klamath Falls, OR, a city of about fifty-thousand people,
loved my column. People would constantly approach me on the street and
tell me how much they loved my column. This is when "The Cult of Sean"
formed.

I became so spiritually fat and self-satisfied that nothing would ever
matter for me again. When any obstacle came across my path, I would say
to myself, "I'm Sean Nelson." And then I'd think coolly about what the
best course of action was. I'd do the right thing and I'd succeed. But
all of my success was held together by the fact that I didn't care
about anything.

One day, in a warm, desert forest with friends, a huge purple
dragon-fly glided up to me. I contemplated him while he contemplated
me. And everything was won.