This is the commitment I made to myself on new year's eve 2007, and it has already produced meaningful results. I welcomed sweaters into my fashion repertoire. I learned that a fit twenty-something wearing pleated pants is tantamount to fashion murder (thanks Allison). I made a concerted effort to be more adventurous in my outfits, and though there were certainly bumps along the way, I feel I'm on the way to the cover of GQ...or more realistically, at least further away my college fashion philosophy of "wear whatever t-shirt smells the least worst". Today, however, I must confess a dark secret--as in a dark blue, gray, or black jockey boxers secret: My underwear selection is uninspiring. The first choice of my fashion day is a simple choice of what solid color I should wear, but "simple" isn't the characteristic I need from a choice that is so important to the attitude, passion, and tone I'll carry for the rest of the day. I need a strong emotional contribution from the first piece of clothing I put on, and the last I take off (unless, of course, I'm down to just my socks; and when I'm down to my socks you know what time it is). To me, the commitment to fashion is far from just a superficial fling; it's about moving from pedantic functionality to aesthetic inspiration. Sure, my boxer briefs give me the support I need, but in those special situations where they're actually viewed, what do I want them to say about me? What kind of attitude do I want to carry? That I am unimaginative and economical? Or that I am a man of both creativity and mystery, with a keen appreciation for sensual appeal?
Luckily, Europe is just the right place to inspire my undergarment creativity. They have stripes, they have dots, they have florescent colors, they have revealing underwear, suggestive underwear, suggestively revealing underwear, sport teams, tacky touristy phrases, they have boxers, briefs, and 100 subtle intermediates. Unfortunately, they have price tags as well...
On the other hand, today I spent the better part of the morning "trying on" Rollerblades. Naturally, in order to find the perfect pair and ensure a good fit, I had to spend over an hour skating around the store like a little kid. For background, recognize that while 4 months of travel has definite adventurous appeal, there are certain pieces of home that I miss desperately. Friends & family are certainly among them, as are a sense of purpose and routine. However, if I had to pick the thing I miss most, the answer is clear: roller hockey. I'm fully convinced there is no sport more fun (except for possibly ice hockey, but I'm not as good at that, so
let's just go with what we've got). I've only played for 3 years, but in my heart I've always been a roller hockey player. Over my life, friends, family, and lovers have all brought me both great joy and great stress, but I can't think of a single time I wasn't happy when I was playing hockey. I even sometimes catch myself walking down the street rolling my wrists dribbling a phantom puck. For me, today's hour of bliss in the sports store was like a small hit for the drug addict: it seemingly pacified a very real physical need, but in truth only served to intensify it. Even with no team, goals, stick or rink, I simply don't know how much longer I can survive without a pair of skates.
All that said, the life of the illegal Spanish immigrant English teacher is not one of financial excess, and one is often forced to make tough choices--I simply cannot afford both. The choice--revamping my entire underwear stock vs. re-uniting myself with my most treasured love: Rollerblades--is hard enough. Considering the philosophical implications that surround the decision, it is next to impossible:
Do I continue to pursue the goal I set for myself on new years eve? I didn't commit to "consider fashion simply when it is convenient," I vowed to let fashion permeate my soul and become a permanent part of my being!
Or, do I follow my heart, and the unconscious force of every fiber of my body, guiding me back to the sports store? To the casual observer, the Rollerblade may seem like a simple device: A boot, a chassis, and four wheels; but upon reflection, one realizes that within this device lies the elusive secret to human happiness.
It is clear to me that I cannot consciously make a decision that willfully alienates either my heart or my mind; both are necessary parts of an integrated being. Therefore, I must leave it to you, the dedicated readers of this blog, to help me solve this dilemma. At risk of becoming painfully aware of my actual reader numbers, I will leave this voting tool in the right column active for the next week. Next Saturday, I will follow your voice, whatever that voice may be. Please, do not treat this decision lightly. This could be the second most important decision you will make in the month of November.
5 comments:
You have come a long way from 2007, the year of the denim shorts. Follow your heart with the roller blades, and free your boys!
I love imagining you on roller blades. I can really picture this. Mmmmmm.
Don't you still have rollerblades in the states? What does it cost to send them to you so you can keep your fashion dreams alive??
Andy, that's the kind of outside-the-box thinking this world needs a lot more of. When the world presents you two options, you invented a third. Some look at the world as it is and ask, "Why?" you look at the world as it could be and ask, "Why not?" Some people give in when the going gets tough, but...okay, I'm going overboard.
Good suggestion. I'm guessing it's cost prohibitive, but worth a look.
maybe for 2009 el caballo should leave the tools in the toolshed and get back into production
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