statement of purpose

A friend once told me that what would save me would be my writing. (Evidently this guy never heard of that fellow Jesus.) Writing has always been important to me, an indispensible clarifier of my thinking, a fulfillment of my creative impulses, and the source of my pride. But very often, I don't do it. I hide my lamp under a bushel and don't write anything.

Usually this is attributable to a lack of time, to perfectionism, to procrastination, to the desire to clarify or research my thoughts further before I set them down or commit to them.

I have always admired the writers of blogs. They seem more comfortable with themselves than I usually perceive myself to be. In any case, they are comfortable enough to write something without a crippling sense of self-indulgence. But I have never known how to stick with one. How can I write something so loose without becoming terribly self-conscious of my failings?

So when a friend's blog began naming some of the Commmandments of the Blogosphere, my interest was piqued. Her pet peeves include blogs that claim to be "random musings." She further claims that others object to folks writing about what they had for lunch as the penultimate example of self-indulgence in blog writing. (It's too bad I don't have a cat at present.)

This blog exists so that I write. Its purpose is to remove the stumbling blocks that keep me from writing.

What if, therefore, I were to inoculate myself against self-indulgence by plunging into it? Shamelessly write about my random musings and what I had for lunch. Then, by contrast, anything else I write seems relatively cogent and applicable.

Therefore, every main post (I reserve the right to make short comments that do not fit the formula) must include two parts: some random, (more or less) ignorant musing, and then a list of what I had for lunch. If I post multiple times a day, I may write about other meals as well.

So here I am. Here we are. I encourage commenters to be self-indulgent as well, albeit nice. Commenters are encouraged, but not required, to write about what they had for lunch.

Today's lunch was more leftovers: roast beef made in a slow cooker with vegetables. It was rather gravy-y, so I crushed cheap saltines into it. Water on the side, and two Whoppers candies.

narwhal

I recently hallucinated or read that scientists have finally discovered the purpose of the narwhal's horn. This unicorn of the sea does not use its long pointy appendage for combat. It's more like a giant whisker. Or antenna. The tusk is full of sensitive nerve endings that enable it to experience a world of sensation that no other creature is aware of.

What is it like to feel the pulsations of movement in the water so minutely that you can navigate towards or away from other creatures by sound? And what would it feel like to have a clear sense of temperature at any time, so that you could tell differential currents and levels of the water? Who knows what the experience is like? All we know is that the narwhal can sense things of which we have no idea. And this odd, unique tusk is the window to this world.

Today for lunch I had a board meeting, with chicken salad sandwich, coffee, creamy vegetable rice soup, yellow crusty cake with chocolate frosting and yellow filling, and water.

what a mighty good man

I've been searching a long time for a good model of healthy modern American masculinity in pop culture. There are very few good candidates. Mostly candidates fall into the categories of jerks and losers. In TV and movies you get either the hypermasculine self-absorbed prick (Tim Allen, frat boys, most sit-coms) or the emasculated ineffectual softie (Ryan Seacrest, that preacher from "Seventh Heaven") or the female fantasy who only exists for the sake of his woman or kids (Dr. McDreamy, most romantic comedies).

I am seeking a man capable of emotion and gentleness, yet able to get things done. Somebody who loves kids, but can also lead. I want to be a good parent--and that means I want to show love to my boys, but also help them grow into men. And I'm not sure I ever learned how to be that guy.

So where are the role models?

Many gay characters on reality shows come to mind: the chefs and designers and hairdressers often have an appealing fierceness along with competence at a particular skill. Yet their fierceness often seems rather shrill. Can a fierce character ever really be at peace with himself?

Mr. Rogers was a pretty good example of masculinity for me (wasn't he a Navy Seal or something?) but his mannerisms on the show only taught me how to focus exclusively on kids. I learned nothing from him on how to negotiate competing needs for kid-time and for grownup-time. And I need to have grownup conversations too, sometimes even when kids are in the room.

John Goodman from "Roseanne" was an appealing model for a while. He clearly loves his kids, and is able to manage a remarkably challenging wife, but he also seems to work well and enjoy his life. But "Barton Fink" made me too aware of this everyman's capacity for violence and rage to ever see him in a healthy way. (Yes, I'm being unfair. It's *my* blog!)

But I think I have found a good example. At last I believe I have found my model male, capable of tenderness, of sharing the spotlight, and also competent at getting things done.

My friends, I submit: Handy Manny. Of the eponymous Disney Channel show. Manny is this very competent worker and leader. He knows how to fix things, and he asserts himself when he truly knows best. Yet he also asks for help. And he knows that he relies fully on his community for assistance. He goes nowhere without his anthropomorphic tools, and always invites their input into what they are doing. In a nice touch, when he numbers off the tools as they "pop up" and "jump in" the toolbox, he even counts himself as one of them.

Manny is clearly the leader, and he usually knows best, but the show is all about collaboration, and mutual interdependence of the community. The closest thing to an unsympathetic character is a neighbor whose projects always fail, not because of simple incompetence, but because of a prideful self-reliance instead of asking for help.

Plus, Manny loves kids and kittens and robot puppies, and takes lots of time for playing with them, but struggles (successfully!) to get his work done even with them in the room.

I need to find out more about this Wilmer Valderrama guy, the voice actor. His voice for Manny is the gentlest possible, with very soft consonants and a tendency to break into non-demonstrative song. I had written the actor off based on the ads for "That Seventies Show" that seemed to show him as a cocky blowhard. But clearly the actresses love him, according to the tabloids.

Anyway, I'm learning from a cartoon character how to be a man. Wish me luck.

For supper I had roast with vegetables. It was one of those slow-cooker meals you buy complete in a box.

you could be headed for the serious strife

I am enough of a snob to be embarrassed by how much I enjoy the most popular drama on TV. (And yeah, I also enjoy the most popular reality show on TV.)

But "Grey's Anatomy" makes some bold choices. They didn't quite kill off the title character tonight, but they did give her a glimpse of a pretty bleak afterlife. And I love theories about the afterlife. I think they reveal a lot about what writers have to say about this world.

For instance, "What Dreams May Come" (the movie--I haven't read the book) tells us that the writer has probably been in recovery, and that life seems to be a constant struggle to connect with people despite misunderstanding and change. And the only hope for happiness is to continue to pay attention to the people around you, and to deal with your pain.

The fascinating but sleep-inducing Japanese movie "After Life" or "Wandafuru raifu" (whatever that means) proposes that the most important element of moving on with life is simply accepting your past. To go on to the next stage of existence, in this life or the next, you need to accept the past-ness, the is-ness, of what has happened. Whether it was good or bad. It is yours.

And tonight, on "Grey's Anatomy" we see a character's near-death experience, and the main obsession of people after they are dead remains the same as on the show: the desperate, futile desire to connect with someone, anyone, especially with the ones you love. Despite all the barriers in the way, despite the inappropriateness of the contact or the degree of intimacy. They just want to touch someone and be touched.

It fits the show, I guess. I just want something more. It makes me sad that the afterlife poses the same problems as the present for most of these writers. But who are we to hope for quick fixes to all our problems, in this world or the next?

Today at lunch I had a Stouffer's Southwest Chicken Panini sandwich, with a really stale handful of original Lay's potato chips, Diet Coke, and 2 Whoppers.