manmaking101's Blurty

Breaking Silence
Why did I start a Blurty?
The People say, "Silence is the cornerstone of character," and I agree. I have learned to dwell in the silence, fully experiencing all my emotions, finding their origins, negotiating their meaning, and anticipating their consequences. No effusion, no drama, and no harm. So, why, with this commitment to silence and understanding, would I start a Blurty? Why a commitment to expression, and why such a public expression?
One word: solipcism.
Good word, huh?
If were Lemony Snickett, I would explain that this is a word which here means getting lost in one’s own thoughts and reflections, going so deep into them that there’s no way to test their truth or validity. In other words, the word means getting lost in my own self and liking it a little too much. I need the world’s correction; I cravew the world’s advice. And, yeah, I could use some critical friends—you know, the kind of friends who will tell you the absolute truth about your thoughts and feelings, because they know the truth matters more than hurt feelings or wounded egoes.
And why do I claim it’s devoted to "manmaking"? Doesn’t it stand to reason that, by the time a guy hits fifty, he’s learned to be a man or he’s lost his chance? Why devote this valuable "maturity" to the business of coming-of-age?
One word: disappointment.
This is a word which here means the profound sadness that comes from recognizing how, in my whole life, I have known only one man I truly could respect—and it wasn’t me. In my experience, men have been treacherous, cunning, conniving beasts—you know, the kinds of guys who thrive in contact sports…like business. My heroes, however, are healers, spiritual warriors, and artists—the kinds of guys who work to ameliorate the human condition rather than exploiting it. My heroes have devoted their lives to making certain that all people have enough rather than hording a little for themselves. In my experience, the world reveres these kinds of guys, but it finds them very hard to accommodate in everyday life. I have a very strong feeling reverence ain’t worth much if it ain’t livable; what did people say when Ghandi turned-down their best pastrami, and there was no falafel in the pantry? Awkward.
I got older, but I never quite came-of-age. I catch myself still laboring under the burdens of late-adolescence, and I think it really is long past time for getting over it. I would like to grow into the kind of man who can win my own respect and admiration—you know, the kinda guy on whom the world can rely for the right thing…whatever that is.
That’s why I started a Blurty.
That and the painfully self-conscius realization that I cannot go on forever, filling-up disk after disk with morbid self-indulgence. "Oh, poor me! Oh-my-oh-my, poor me!" my journals say: thousands of pages and gazillions of gigabytes devoted to oh, poor me—no resolution, no progress, no evolution or revolution, no peripety or epiphany; just jermiad…cubed and then cubed again. Out in public, I will not show the anatomy of melancholy. Maybe, I’ll even make some sense.
As this sucker develops, please let me know how I’m doing—kick my ass, bend my brain, contort my conscience; do whatcha gotta do, but help me make it count, please. The Blurty doesn’t develop just for me; it also develops for the benfit of those I love and want to serve.