Clint Miller's Questionnaire

Clint lives in Agoura Hills, California in a suburban house, but spends six months of the year doing fieldwork at an open-pit diamond mine in Tanzania. During his at-home months, he swaps with another geologist who takes over the fieldwork while he works on block models and other office work. Clint's townhouse in Agoura Hills is a mundane, upper-middle-class building consisting of two floors and a basement suite.  Clint enjoys California's varied geological structures, and the warm weather allows him to spend lots of time outdoors with his two daughters, a 19-year-old  Elaine and seven-year-old Pris. Clint's wife Matilda works as a biologist. Ella also lives in their suburban house and rents out the basement while going to college.

Clint works as a geologist, advising a mine in Tanzania where to mine based on drilled core samples. Half of the year, he works on site, while he spends the other half manipulating block models and performing calculations digitally. He spends most of the money on programs and support for his daughter Pris, who has been diagnosed with Down syndrome, and paying for his daughter Ella's college tuition. He is only able to afford this due to the dual-income between him and his wife, Matilda, who is a 41-year-old Biologist. Between the two of them, they hope to get Ella through school and retire in their early seventies. 

The main goal I have is to advance the sciences. Considering the recent illumination of the supernatural, I want to empically observe, test, and discover more about these creatures. I would not kill for this, but I would absolutely die to further humanity. 

In addition to this, I also want to make the world a safer place for my daughters. I believe Ella will be fine - She is strong, like her mother - but I am concerned for Pris. Maybe I am being paranoid, but I do not trust the government to take good care of my daughter if Matilda and I were to pass away. I hear many stories on the news, mostly of girls, being treated very badly by this system. I want to make a world that is safer for people with cognitive disabilities, not just for Pris, but for everyone like her. And yes, I would kill for it, even give my own life for it. If I had to, I would not hesitate.

The most defining experience of my life was when my first wife was killed in a car accident. She was driving Ella home from school, who was only four at the time when a drunk driver slammed into her at a red light. Fucking bastard wasn't even hurt, drove off and had his plate numbers hidden. The cops were incompetent and never found him. But I did. Waited around at the nearest bar every night, till I saw a beaten truck with dents and covered plates pull up.

I watched him drink. Minutes turned into hours. I was younger then. Stupid, mad and drunk. I wish I could say I wasn't myself - but I was. I know what I chose to do.

I followed him as he walked to his car. He was the last one to leave, he was drunk, and there was no one around. I remember how it felt vividly. My fist crashed into his nose, snapping as it broke. Screaming, He staggered back, and I pushed him, hit him, again and again and again. Until he stopped yelling. Until he stopped moving. And it felt good.

I am not proud of what I did that night. That man may have had a family, and kids. He deserved what he got, but they didn't. I wish I could say I wouldn't do it again. 

But I can't.

I have many friends, from work or otherwise, but I am closest to my wife. It took me nine years to remarry, but when I did, it was to my best friend, the woman who had helped me through that time of grief, and pulled me back up. I had known her for years, and never thought about her romantically, but something started to grow out of that friendship. At first, I felt guilty. Ella hated it - She still resents Matilda. But I deserve to be happy - don't I? Despite...despite everything?

I suppose that makes the other two people I am closest to my kids. Ella was my first child, and she is 19 now, going to college nearby. She is pragmatic, honest, and intelligent. Similar to Matilda in that manner, I suppose. I think that is why they don't get along - they are too similar. Thank god they have to take breaks from fighting to take care of Priss.

Priss is my little angel - She was diagnosed with Down syndrome when very young and struggles to talk. She gets bullied at school, and it breaks my heart to hear it. I spend nearly every day I can with her - She loves to draw and paint, it's one of the few ways she expresses herself. I worry a lot about her safety, though. A lot of the teachers aren't very - accepting. And they tend not to keep as close an eye on her as I would like. She comes home with bruises sometimes, and we can never get her to communicate who hurt her. It is very frustrating for me. We ended up moving her to a new school just this year, but...I am not optimistic. 

I was born into a family of modest bearing in rural Finland. Each weekday, I walked to a small schoolhouse and learned the basics of the world around me. Even as a child, my face was misshapen, and I remember being bullied when very young. However, as I got older, I outgrew most of my peers and the bullying became more emotional, which didn't bother me nearly as much.  My father and mother took me for long hikes in the surrounding mountains each weekend. My father was a blast miner and taught me about shear lines, glaciation, and other information he had learned from his friend, Gregor Hume, the geologist at the local mine. Gregor often joined me on these hikes, and as I grew into a young man, we bonded over a mutual interest in the earth sciences. When my parents passed in a motorcar accident, I moved in with Gregor and his wife. Gregor agreed to help fund my university education and in addition to a scholarship, I could afford the education required to become a geologist.

I have been in romantic love once, with my first wife, and I don't think I ever will be again. My new wife I like, and certainly she is a wonderful friend and person, but I do not think I truly love her. Residual guilt from the death of my first wife, once. She was, of course, my first and only real experience with love. In the non-romantic sense, I of course love my daughters. I hope one day, love will develop between me and my second wife, but I do not  think I would be upset if our practical and direct like for each other was all we could have.