So....

I changed the name of my blog to more accurately reflect the way I currently feel about myself and the world.

For anyone who might be reading this, I'll explain a bit.

The Sun also Rises was Hemingway's first novel and it tracks the exploits of a group of expatriate friends from Paris to Northern Spain and back. The central event in the story is a bullfight. I won't go into the plot details too much, because I think it's a pretty important read for anyone of our generation. This particular quote comes from a minor character who is quite drunk. Like any literary quote, it can be taken a variety of ways.

The character who says this quote is very very drunk at the time of its utterance, and I am often drunk, so I like that about it. I also think it's a very succinct way of expressing disappointment in something on a very deep level. Bulls, more than any other animal, are supposed to represent masculinity, virility and power. They are also a worthy adversary. Only by fighting and conquering a worthy adversary can one be sure of one's own competence level, and by extension, the purpose of one's existence. This takes on an added dimension when considering the whole driving force behind the novel itself is the journey to see the bullfight and experience true passion (or aficion, as Hemingway describes it). Without worthy bulls, the whole journey becomes an exercise in futility.

This speaks to me on many levels. I sometimes feel like in order to define my own purpose, I must find a worthy cause: a bull with balls. Other times, I think I am the bull in question and I wonder what Hemingway would say about me, about the state of my affairs. I wonder if rescinding my power to an amorphous concept like "purpose" is just another way of rationalizing my cowardice. After all, if I saw a bull with balls, would I even know what to do with it or would I run in the other direction, throwing off any red clothing along the way, then go to the local bar and get shitfaced on local wine, only to comment later on the apparent problems with the bulls I had in my sights?

Introduction

I suppose that I should start my posts with a description of myself or at least what I'm trying to say here, but the truth is I'm not sure how much it really matters. I could be anything or everything you love to hate or hate to love and it wouldn't really matter to you unless we agree about who should be president, or whether god really IS dead or which David should've won American Idol. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think sometimes it's good just put things out there with very little intention and absolutely no expectations. Not because there is no disappointment that way, but because there is never any way to know what will come back to you and guessing is pointless and steals your chance of joy.

All that said, I guess I will include a short description, because if I am anything I am self-contradictory and often oblivious to my own inherent irony. I live in Austin, I am married to my best friend and I have an adorable balding dog that is the (other) love of my life. I enjoy long walks on the beach hand-in-hand, watching romantic comedies, eating chocolate, petting puppies, braiding hair, making posters with bubble letters for the cheer squad....and sarcasm. If you're reading this and you can't figure out which of those are true, maybe you should stop reading now. All of this makes me sound very poorly adjusted, and maybe I am. I really don't know. I also have parents and a sister and in-laws but I'm sure I'll get to them later and frankly it's only Tuesday and I can't waste my limited mental energy on painting them in a fair and truthful way so early in the week.

I guess the real reason why I am doing this is to have something for myself that is only mine. Collaborating on things is a true strength of mine (read, I have trouble accepting credit for work that I've done because I'm insecure and need people to like me) and it is certainly it's own reward. I have a wonderful life full of things I don't own; choices I didn't fully commit to and experiences I wasn't fully present in. I want to change that. I want to begin something that is mine and then decide consciously how other people will contribute to my own experience. I expect to be surprised by the outcome and feel hopeful that, even in disappointment (if that is what awaits me) I will, at least, be the author of my own experience.

Oh, and by the way, I won't do nearly as much philosophizing and whining in my next post. I am aware that the last paragraph, combined with the title of my blog may be enough to make many readers give their computer screens the finger and never come back again (or even worse, it may attract the kind of psedo-intellectual douchebags that quote Satre at superbowl parties and debate David Sedaris' credibility as a writer). In any case, I'll try to write something funny (doesn't that sound promising) next time.