A Cipher, Wrapped in an Enigma, Smothered in Secret Sauce

I am going to coin a new expression. I’m going to coin it right now. Ready?

“To know me is to be thoroughly and utterly confused by me.”

What does it mean?

Why are you asking me? I just coin the stuff. I don’t interpret them.

Okay, fine. I believe it has to do with the fact that, in many ways, I am a walking contradiction.

Follow me, if you will, as I bore you to tears with some examples.

(Cue the Indiana Jones music. Why? Because it makes you think something exciting is going on even if all that’s happening is Harrison Ford eating a sandwich.)

To most people, I have a “Type B” personality. I’m patient, relaxed and easy-going. My boss and co-workers love me because I’m such a calming influence in their otherwise hectic work environment.

Of course, when I relayed this tidbit to my mom yesterday, she laughed.

“I don’t think you’re a Type B,” she told me. “You’re a mix. You clearly have some Type A traits, too.”

And she’s right.

For one thing, I’m very competitive. If someone challenged me to a Dr. Gregory House lookalike contest, I would seriously consider taking up a vicodin addiction just so I could be as authentic as possible.

I also, as my family lovingly tells me from time to time, have a “dictator” streak in me. At its root, this is simply an “I would rather just do everything myself so I can make sure it’s done right” attitude, but I can occasionally take it to the dictatorship level. My mom fondly remembers last Thanksgiving, when I went on a 10-minute rant because she put the green bean casserole I’d prepared into the oven a full hour before we’d be eating.

“Now it’s going to be cold when we sit down to eat! Why did you put it in so soon? I’m going to have to reheat the thing!”

I believe I also threw in a “You have ruined Thanksgiving” and “Now the terrorists have won”, but I don’t remember for certain.

Of course, the confusion that is Kevin isn’t restricted simply to Type A/B personality traits. Nope. No sirree, Bob.

I am an excellent driver, but blindfolded children with fluid in their ears have a better sense of direction than I do.

I don’t consider myself a public speaker, and yet I once gave a speech that may as well have been an eHarmony commercial to an auditorium full of people.

When I was a teacher I kept meticulous records. I do the same for my financial records. But as I look down at my desk here in my office at work, I see an endless array of unorganized, used yellow sticky notes — some of which are three years old. “Staff Meeting at 11:00 on 3/8/06.” Yes, I’m so very glad I’ve kept this sticky note. I’m sure it’s vitally important.

Still, I think the most confusing thing about me, to me, is the way I handle goals. When I put my mind to something, I furiously strive to meet it. I become the most focused person you’d ever want to meet.

I’m the athlete in high school who, even though my sport (baseball) was during the spring and it was currently the month of November, could be spotted jogging, in the rain, on the track after school.

I’m the guy in third grade who wouldn’t let the teacher forget to collect the homework because my life’s mission was winning the “highest average” award for the class and there was no doggone way I was going to let the teacher deprive me of a 100 homework grade.

But I’m also the guy who, once he reaches a goal, totally and completely loses focus.

I’m the high school graduate who, after having finally earned that baseball scholarship to college he’d been striving for, decides he’s burned out by the game.

I’m the fourth grader who, after having won the “high average” award in third grade, throws an eraser at the kid in the front of the class who has the audacity to remind the teacher to collect the homework assignments.

The good news is I think I finally have a handle on what makes me tick.

Once I meet a goal I set for myself, I have to set a new goal. When I meet that goal, I have to set another one. And another one. And another one. I keep doing that until, eventually, 130 years have gone by and I’m dead. And then, once I’m in Heaven, I set a new goal for myself. And then another one. And another one.

What can I say? I’m complicated.

About Kevin

Who am I? I am a cipher, wrapped in an enigma, smothered in secret sauce. Also, my name is Kevin and I own this here website.

5 thoughts on “A Cipher, Wrapped in an Enigma, Smothered in Secret Sauce


    this is what happens when people mess with the culinary-artist’s work. SRSLY U GUYS. hands off the edible fireworks!!!!! YOU JUST KILLED PATRIOTISM

  2. Now you have to meet someone whose lifelong goal it is to understand you!

    Good luck with that.

    Or … maybe you are just like me. In a totally good way. To wit:

    A = neurotic
    B = precocious
    C = funny
    D = goal oriented

    In that order.

    I could go on, but I have some goals I must meet today! Involving writing a chapter, eating something healthy, and getting some exercise. As usual, you have inspired me!

  3. @gianna: I know, I know. Don’t you hate it when the terrorists win?? I hope my mom never mistakes the same mistake again. Seriously, you put the green bean casserole in the oven 20 minutes before it’s time to eat. How hard is that?? ;-)

    @Sarah: Oh, yes. I’d have to imagine it’s much less stressful. Are you a Type A?

    @Kevin: With such a hilariously witty comment, I have only one thing to say: TIME TO UPDATE YOUR OWN BLOG!

    @Jenny: Haha. I’m not sure such a person even exists!

    Hmmm. That does sound a lot like me. I can be neurotic. I was the most precocious teenager you’d ever want to meet. Not to bang on my own drum, but I do think I’m funny. And I’m goal oriented (when I’m not distracted). Are you sure being just like you is a good thing? ;-)

    Glad I could inspire you. We’ll meet those goals! Those goals won’t know what hit ‘em!

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