Down and dirty

Some months ago, on the interweb, I took note of a demonstration for some product, the exact nature of which failed to make an impression. However, what I do recall is the dirt under the fingernails of the female demonstrator, evident in close-ups of her hands holding and pointing out features on the product.

I remember thinking how peculiar that was, especially as her nails were all of a longer but neatly-trimmed length suggesting otherwise particular care. It seemed further odd that such carelessness had escaped the attention of the videographer shooting in close-up. 

Dirty? Obviously.

I was fully sympathetic with the woman whose hands were at issue. I know how hard it is to keep one’s nails clean. It is common enough for me to wash my hands and clean my nails thoroughly—and then to find them dirty two hours later, even if all I’d done in those two hours was to sit in a chair and watch TV.

In fact, I found it more remarkable that more dirty nails weren’t evident in graphic media; certsinly they are in daily life.

Dirty? Who's to say?

And then, just this weekend, I was sitting around thinking the heavy and important thoughts that tend to occupy my waking hours, and it dawned on me: as much trouble as it is to keep their fingernails painted, women actually must find that practice simpler than keeping the dirt out from under their nails. What’s more, since fingernail polish is traditionally a female prerogative in our culture, it also allows women just one more item to criticize in men—our fingernail hygiene—while escaping that scrutiny themselves.

What? Too silly? Well, what were you thinking about this weekend?

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I think, therefore I won't

Basically, the problem is one of philosophy—my philosophy. More precisely, my new philosophy: do only what you have to.

Many years ago, when I was in the seminary (yeah, it’s even hard for me to believe), one of our philosophy instructors, an intense and brilliant young man by the name of Jim Heisig, taught us this: Philosophy implies action. In other words, one cannot lay claim to holding a philosophical principle unless one is actually living a life that exemplifies that principle.

Ergo (for some reason, ‘ergo’ is a big-deal word in Philosophy 101, something to do with logic, as I recall), I am thrown into immediate conflict with writing this blog and the several others I have launched. Obviously, blogging is hardly a necessary activity. In fact, I undertand that, contrary to appearances, the vast majority of human beings on this planet do not blog. Go figure. And yet, over time, I set myself the standard of writing four blogs every week.

What the heck was I thinking?

Well, I’ll tell you what I was thinking: I needed to write. For purposes of clear writing and even clearer thinking, I wanted to write in a public forum, where my thoughts and beliefs could be subject to challenge and testing, whether anyone cared to or not. So far, no one has, but I reckon that’s due more to lack of readers rather than the strength of my notions and their presentation.

But why the (often missed) goal of a weekly schedule? Simply put, because of personal conceit—and enough said on that topic. That, and I didn’t want the blogs to appear neglected or abandoned to the many readers I don’t even have.

So, in an attempt to bring practice more into line with my recently articulated new philosophy—do only what you have to—as well as to meet the writing urges from which I suffer, I will make a weekly entry into this Uncle Genie blog, my Uncle Genie’s Other Blog and my Uncle Genie’s Deep Space blog, but it may often be only to say “Nothing.” The remaining blog, Uncle Genie’s Cook’s Book, is more casual in purpose and design and doesn’t seem to warrant scheduled tending.

After all, this was supposed to be fun, or at least anxiety reducing. Gotta get right back to where we started from. (Maxine Nightingale)

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