Dirk Knemeyer


I think a lot about my “type”. I think a lot about myself, which is consistent with my type. Trying to figure myself out, improve myself, transfer that understanding into improving others and the world. Of course, there is no

Life and stuff

I enjoy being alive. I know – I think too much. Other people aren’t cursed with the self-awareness that makes acknowledging actually enjoying being alive is a “Eureka!” moment. But I feel that way. I can palpably experience the pleasure


My parents tried to control me. Constantly. Why? * Reasons about me – my brightness, my lack of conformity, my attitude of “question everything” * Reasons about them – their insecurity, controlled in their own relationships (especially my father being