So.

So I'm changing my name.  Fuck them, these people who defined themselves as my 'family.'  Stupid definitions, they are all Platonic, Ideal:  love, family, etc.

Family is random, two drunken bunnies going at it, I am one of an an infinite number of DNA combinations, up to 250,000,000 on any given go. They bred four sons, 50% her, 50% him.  Who of us is psychopathic narcissist? Who of us can't love? Who of us refuses to show up?  Who of us is trapped by convention? Who of us is too cold to go the distance?

Brother Number One transcended all of it.

Brothers Number Two and Four are trapped by it, but in very different ways.

I AM Brother Number Three, and I am desperately trying to figure my way OUT OF IT.  And post Tour de Family, I finally got:  this is not my 'family,'  Plato-et-al.  I need better than my lowest possibility.  

And when  I saw all to clearly via the Novakovich line where lie the conflict, I equally saw the resolution to that conflict: fuck the family, consider a different possibility.

First matter of business to fucking your family: changing your name.  Not as easy as it seems.  They name you when you are a mere idea to their processes.  In the meantime you've spent half a century existing on your own volition.  Are you a Harold? A Marvin? A Dick?  Half a century you've breathed without thought.  As whom?

(nice try, but no, not a Dick.) (Maybe...)