The Title

In my last post, I indicated that I would, to put a pause on any undo worry on account of an unexplained title I have bestowed upon myself, explain the name of The_Anachronistic_Gentleman.

To be honest, in many aspects, this blog began as a whim at the instigation of my fiancee, which as a topic shall be covered quite thoroughly in another post - her loveliness of form and character being far too exquisite to fully divulge in the midst of a discussion. My inner child began to rant and rave saying, "She has a blog, I want one too!" And so, to quiet the beastly little blighter, I began this blog. So, on my whim, after spending several hours with Gulliver on the miniature island of Lilliput, my boredom caught hold and off I went, searching for a blog site to host my endeavor! And behold, before me, shining like a great light, lay the orange "B." I'm sure Constantine was much more glad to see the Cross in the sky than I this secondary letter, nonetheless, I found the ease with which a blog may be created.

Now, those of you who have done this before will remember your own... shall we say, dumbfoundedness when faced with the daunting task of choosing a screen name. Who in the world thought up this horrible torture device and why in the name of all that is literarily clever do we constantly have to find some witty moniker with which to label ourselves for posterity's sake? To be sure, there are some less-than-imaginative writers who feel that supporting their peculiarly belittling literature with names such as "EdWaRds_GiRl_14" gains them some credit with fellow unimaginative readers who have nothing better to do than play the proverbial troll to the bridge of blog posts.

When faced with a mountainous task such as this, some men step back, ponder the situation fully before placing their hands on the keyboard. Others, such as myself, will often find our fingers moving over the keyboard much more rapidly than we should like with a purpose born out of some subconscious desire to be heard. In this particular case my fingers stated their case and won. (For those of you worried about my own menatl health, please rest assured that my fingers do not always win this war and are often chided for their audacity and impatience.) My subconscious by way of my fingers did propose a title that, after thought, did make sense.

You see, I find myself an oddity, a rarity, a thing of mystery with which many people know not how to handle. Young men of such intent and purpose find themselves surrounded by, physically and in the current media, Yahoos of the greatest calibur... to put things nicely. (If you do not get the reference, please go read Swift... it might also help you to understand the style and aim of the author you are currently reading.) My fellow gentleman and I on this campus have formed somewhat of a loose fraternity of sorts, despairing our age's loss of decorum. We find ourselves much more at home in the coffeeshops and in the Victorian fashion than in today's loose-fitting, athletic society. (Perhaps this is a college phenomenon, but it still strikes me as odd that exercise clothing has become a real fashion option in today's society.) No, we do not actually sit around in Victorian Age costume in Starbucks bemoaning the sad state of the youth today... although that strikes me as a wonderfully humorous situation that could easily bring the stares and awkward gesturing and whispers of a typical Starbucks crowd.

And so, feeling somewhat out-of-place in today's society, I have adopted the title of "The Anachronistic Gentleman." The meaning of which comes across from a desire to find recognition for proper raising and education for myself and those who ascribe to this manner of thinking. I myself am not anachronistic, and do personally enjoy modern developments such as, but not limited to, computers, internet, air conditioning, cars and the like.

May you have a wonderfully refreshing weekend,
The Anachronistic Gentleman

And so it begins...

Eh, for an uninteresting title, which is somewhat cliche, I believe I should make up for it here in this first post... and yet, seeing as it's late and I do have class on the morrow, I should probably make things short and sweet.

I would like to keep this particular venture from turning into some rant against the young men of my generation, and rather leave this space for more constructive comments on how things could be better.

If you haven't read the "About Me" section... I don't blame you, I usually don't waste much time on those either. Therefore, for you OCD friends out there who, regardless of how long this thing turns out to be, decide you want to start from the beginning, look no further - you are here.

My life ends up being on long joke in which I find myself the butt of, or, rather, I see it that way because it makes dealing with... difficult people easier.

So here 'goes:
A Southern gentleman used to be something of a respectable title. Nowadays, I hold open doors and am treated like a footman hired for the job. I guess our "specializationist" culture has robbed the door holding gentlemen of the honor they once held. Yes, we were raised this way... well, some of us anyway. And no, those of you who read in voices, I do not have much of a Southern accent, so quit making me sound like a dork... more than I do already. Anyway, I stand convinced that most people do not appreciate a held-open door. Perhaps they assume I am judging them weak and helpless, but I have always seen it as a polite (yes I just used the "P" word) gesture. So what's so bad about that? Why do I get more funny looks than I do gestures of thankfulness?

I guess this rambling first post might scare some people off, but I shall do my best in subsequent posts to do a more thorough job. I believe I shall try to post on Mondays and Fridays... mainly because that seems most convenient at the moment.

May your mid-week be blessed with productivity, rest, and a little craziness.

Sincerely yours,
The Anachronistic Gentleman (I shall explain the moniker on Friday)