Publisher's Synopsis
In my mind, I have always been ugly. Even when I look back at old childhood photos and realize that I looked kind of cute at times, I certainly never felt that way. Somehow it was branded on my soul that everyone else was prettier than me, and from that, I strangely concluded inherently superior. I don't know why I felt that way - only that I did. It didn't help that those anguishing suspicions about my hideousness found justification in the form of my personal tormentors. In other words, there has been a string of people, including one named Beth, who have reinforced my self-perceived disgustingness. Those feelings of worth most people are apparently born with have always been foreign to me. I am unfortunately likewise cursed however, with the desire to be perceived as at least adequate in the "looks" department - particularly in regards to females. I always yearned to be a part of the social dynamic, despite my facial limitations, and eventually concluded, for reasons unknown, that some level of high achievement - by any means - could blind people to my hideousness. Come on my twisted journey through life as a try to redeem myself in some manner. Though my methods were sound to my way of thinking, the resulting anarchy and mayhem leads me to question my strategy. Everything turned out strange, hilarious, and weird for some reason. Maybe that's what happens when a person so shallow, as apparently I must be, bases their worth on the ugliness of their face. In youth, for example, I fashioned that insecurity fueled angst, born out of a repugnant self-image, into a manic, self-destructive, psycho-energy that served to exaggerate my physical prowess. On the football field, for example, my willingness to sacrifice personal safety and ignore the pain, blood, and gore resulting from my endless violent, kamikaze collisions earned the respect of my peers - or so I thought at the time. It was for me a vital element in building self-esteem in such a way as to allow for my functioning as an almost normal human being. Resulting from successful early efforts at social assimilation, I carried that same primal reckless abandon into my adulthood where I pathetically maintained a very physical and menial job well into my thirties. For all those years, I nurtured a ridiculously contrived image of being a "force of nature" devoid of feeling pain or mercy. My delusional goal, starting from youth and continuing until I could do it no longer, was to crush the will of my imagined opponents, and in theory remove the focus away from my revolting face. I know it doesn't appear sane, but in my delusional mind it seemed to work - or at least it made me feel better. My life has become the stuff of legends - legendarily lame that is - in the minds of most anyway. For those of you who see "lam-o" in my actions, however, I offer you redemption. In exchange for you reading about me, I gift you the personally redemptive power of joyful exuberance in knowing that though my life has been strange and my face flawed, I finally found someone who found me pretty! Or maybe I just found someone blind -or whatever. In other words, if "beauty" wants to live out a movie romance fantasy with me - "the beast" - there is hope for everyone else! In somewhat chronological order, after first describing the seminal events leading to this book, the memories forming the mangled mosaic of my deranged thoughts and deeds will be recounted. From the perspective of a mind operating amidst a thick cloud of profound insecurity and pathos, I offer you the re-telling of a life inspired by the power of ugly, but ultimately fulfilled by unconditional love.