OS has been astir since Cartouche came out as O'Really. Now all OSers are divulging their true names, posting their true pictures, and identifying their alter egos. At first I was inclined to stay out of the fracas, but after some consideration, I've decided to come clean.
When I joined OS, I created a fictional character, Steve Blevins -- an affable, if somewhat eccentric, internist in Oklahoma City. I've enjoyed inhabiting that role, but it's time to come out of the shadows.
My real name is Michael Worthington. I'm a 22-year old college senior majoring in biophysics at Stanford.
After graduation, I'm taking a position as chief scientific investigator with a small but promising robotics firm in San Francisco. I hope to move into my new apartment by September.
Apartment in San Francisco
I grew up with my parents and two younger siblings in Manchester-by-the-Sea, just twenty miles north of Boston. My father wanted me to follow in his footsteps at Harvard, but I insisted on going to the West Coast.
Home in Manchester-by-the-Sea
Last year, I was elected captain of the lacrosse team, but I turned it down so I could spend more time teaching disadvantaged children how to read.
Susie, my pupil
Music is my life. As a high school student, I spent summers in the Berkshires studying violin at the Tanglewood Music Festival. Now I'm assistant concert-master of the Stanford Symphony Orchestra.
Stanford Symphony Orchestra
Thanks to a classmate, I've discovered the joys of rock-climbing. Last summer, my friends and I traveled to Provence to scale Les Gorges du Verdon. We had a blast!
Gorges du Verdon
It was there that I fell in love with French cuisine. Despite my parents' protests, I took a few cooking classes and immersed myself in Jacques Pépin's The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen.
But life hasn't been all that kind. I was devastated when Amy broke up with me last month. I sought the comfort of family and friends. My siblings, Mary and Luke, were wonderful. They've been interested in learning to ski since they saw me compete in the Chamonix Downhill.
So during Winter Break, I took them to Gstaad and gave them ski lessons. They caught on quickly and had a great time.
Our hotel in Gstaad
Still, I am lonely. Sometimes I fear I'll never fall in love again. But who knows? Maybe the right person will come along -- someone who enjoys Vivaldi and pinot gris on warm summer nights, who won't laugh when I overcook the lobster thermidor, who won't be ashamed to hold my hand as we glide down the moonlit slopes of Gstaad, who will humor me when I read Keats aloud or recite my favorite lines of Mallarmé.
Anyway, I apologize for not having always been so candid. My heart was in the right place. I wish to continue writing under my nom de plume, though each of you deserves to know the real man behind the writing. Thank you for your kindness and forbearance.