I have just been sitting around, rather lazily, watching episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and drinking minty hot chocolate when a girlfriend of mine posted a link to the most amazing article of life. Please read below. Hilarious!
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{This is courtesy of Tom Chiarella via Esquire magazine}
What is a Man?
A man carries cash. A man looks out for those around him — woman, friend, stranger. A man can cook eggs. A man can always find something good to watch on television. A man makes things — a rock wall, a table, the tuition money. Or he rebuilds — engines, watches, fortunes. He passes along expertise, one man to the next. Know-how survives him. This is immortality. A man can speak to dogs. A man fantasizes that kung fu lives deep inside him somewhere. A man knows how to sneak a look at cleavage and doesn’t care if he gets busted once in a while. A man is good at his job. Not his work, not his avocation, not his hobby. Not his career. His job. It doesn’t matter what his job is, because if a man doesn’t like his job, he gets a new one.
A man can look you up and down and figure some things out. Before you say a word, he makes you. From your suitcase, from your watch, from your posture. A man infers.
A man owns up. That’s why Mark McGwire is not a man. A man grasps his mistakes. He lays claim to who he is, and what he was, whether he likes them or not.
Some mistakes, though, he lets pass if no one notices. Like dropping the steak in the dirt.
A man loves the human body, the revelation of nakedness. He loves the sight of the pale breast, the physics of the human skeleton, the alternating current of the flesh. He is thrilled by the snatch, by the wrist, the sight of a bare shoulder. He likes the crease of a bent knee. When his woman bends to pick up her underwear, he feels that thrum that only a man can feel.
A man doesn’t point out that he did the dishes.
A man looks out for children. Makes them stand behind him.
A man knows how to bust balls.
A man has had liquor enough in his life that he can order a drink without sounding breathless, clueless, or obtuse. When he doesn’t want to think, he orders bourbon or something on tap.
Never the sauvignon blanc.
A man welcomes the coming of age. It frees him. It allows him to assume the upper hand and teaches him when to step aside.
Maybe he never has, and maybe he never will, but a man figures he can knock someone, somewhere, on his ass.
He does not rely on rationalizations or explanations. He doesn’t winnow, winnow, winnow until truths can be humbly categorized, or intellectualized, until behavior can be written off with an explanation. He doesn’t see himself lost in some great maw of humanity, some grand sweep. That’s the liberal thread; it’s why men won’t line up as liberals.
A man gets the door. Without thinking.
He stops traffic when he must.
A man resists formulations, questions belief, embraces ambiguity without making a fetish out of it. A man revisits his beliefs. Continually. That’s why men won’t forever line up with conservatives, either.
A man knows his tools and how to use them — just the ones he needs. Knows which saw is for what, how to find the stud, when to use galvanized nails.
A miter saw, incidentally, is the kind that sits on a table, has a circular blade, and is used for cutting at precise angles. Very satisfying saw.
A man knows how to lose an afternoon. Drinking, playing Grand Theft Auto, driving aimlessly, shooting pool.
He knows how to lose a month, also.
A man listens, and that’s how he argues. He crafts opinions. He can pound the table, take the floor. It’s not that he must. It’s that he can.
A man is comfortable being alone. Loves being alone, actually. He sleeps.
Or he stands watch. He interrupts trouble. This is the state policeman. This is the poet. Men, both of them.
A man loves driving alone most of all.
Style — a man has that. No matter how eccentric that style is, it is uncontrived. It’s a set of rules.
He understands the basic mechanics of the planet. Or he can close one eye, look up at the sun, and tell you what time of day it is. Or where north is. He can tell you where you might find something to eat or where the fish run. He understands electricity or the internal-combustion engine, the mechanics of flight or how to figure a pitcher’s ERA.
A man does not know everything. He doesn’t try. He likes what other men know.
A man can tell you he was wrong. That he did wrong. That he planned to. He can tell you when he is lost. He can apologize, even if sometimes it’s just to put an end to the bickering.
A man does not wither at the thought of dancing. But it is generally to be avoided.
A man watches. Sometimes he goes and sits at an auction knowing he won’t spend a dime, witnessing the temptation and the maneuvering of others. Sometimes he stands on the street corner watching stuff. This is not about quietude so much as collection. It is not about meditation so much as considering. A man refracts his vision and gains acuity. This serves him in every way. No one taught him this — to be quiet, to cipher, to watch. In this way, in these moments, the man is like a zoo animal: both captive and free. You cannot take your eyes off a man when he is like that. You shouldn’t. The hell if you know what he is thinking, who he is, or what he will do next.
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Hope this made your day as much as it made mine!
I have the costume and I have knee-high black boots and black pumps (depending on which end up feeling more appropriate), plus I’ve pulled out my makeup collection to pay homage to Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean. I’m going to double-coat my sunless tanner tomorrow so I look a bit darker than normal + using loads of fun bronzer and highlighter to give it a more rugged appearance. I’m actually quite excited because there are a load of eyeshadows and pigments that I’ve owned for years and have wanted to use and they finally get to come out tomorrow!
I’m going to keep my lips pretty faint (almost unnaturally nude) and make my eyes super dark and pirate-y. I also brought out the fake lashes which may make an appearance tomorrow night, too!
I think her hair is kind of cool and works for the look that I’m going for, unfortunately I also think it takes some level of skill to make hair look that cool. I’m not sure how much skill I have on the hair front, so I may end up just putting it half up and teasing it a bit to give it mad volume.
The Traveling Scholar 