Hairs!

Ok. So to continue with my self-deprecating, or else to celebrate the fact I’m getting old, I will write a blog about my hairs, or lack there-of.

Last week I went to my friend’s bachelor’s party. We played paint ball in the woods and when we ran out of CO2 we did what any testosterone loving guys would do: threw the paint as hard as we could at each other. My wife got my turn caught on video. I bend over, two guys chuck paint at me, and I proceed to cuss about how much it hurts. When I watched the video, all I could focus on was the straight view to my scalp when I bent over.

I have known now for a while that I was thinning and tried my best to convince people of it. “I’m getting old,” I would say. To which older people would say, “You’re not that old.” Which is about as annoying as admitting that I’m getting out of shape and then obese people saying, “You’re as skinny as a rail!”

What? Just because I’m not obese doesn’t mean that I can watch my weight? Likewise, time, no matter how illusionary, does march forward and I am getting older.

I think that most people confuse my “I’m getting old” with “I don’t want to get old.” Getting old in this culture has such a negative connotation to it. Maybe I just don’t buy into it. I like getting older–not because my body is starting to fail, but because I have always pretty much existed in my mind. I thrive on intellectual activities. As such, getting old allows me to experience more of life and in more perspectives than I ever thought possible when I was younger.

Granted, I’m pushing the limits of attention span and memory capacity. I find that I can’t juggle as many things as I could when I was younger, but here’s the clincher: the projects I did when I was younger weren’t as nuanced nor complex as now. Rather than doing Mathcounts, acting, music, writing, boy scouts, school, family, pets, and recreational reading, I now only do a few things, mainly family, music, and especially writing.

During high school and before, my writing was shallow, written quickly and then put away before given much thought (much like these blogs). I even published three books of unrevised writing and got my friends to buy them. I still have the master copy, but can’t read it any more. I rushed through it and though I gave it my best shot, I know I can do better. So some day I might take some of those story ideas and breathe new life into them but for now, I’m content to focus on my novel, which by the way, I just started Chapter 29 of 36!

So, back to my hairs. After seeing that video, I realized that no amount of persuasion could convince me that I wasn’t going bald. I had conclusive proof. The next day, I best a hair cutting kit and shaved my head into a buzz cut. It only barely hides the evidence, but rather than attempting the one hair comb over that my wife thought I should try, I accepted my genetics with open arms.

Halloween comes earlier to Valleyville.

Oh, those rotating holidays!  With Halloween on a Tuesday this year, and both my wife and I needing to work the next day, we went out to the KMo dance last night.  A co-worker gave us a ride and we glided in a 9:30ish.  Our costumes? 

While we couldn’t beat two years ago when my wife went as Michael Jackson and I went as a ten year old boy, we had much to improve from last year in Rome.  Nobody except for tourists celebrate Halloween at RCHQ.  Strange though how the Colosseum was absolutely buzzing.  The stones were emitting an energy all their own.  But going as tourists in a tourist city when vendors give you broken roses instead of candy and still demand money is not my idea of a good time.

Last night… now that was a good time.  I had been working on my wife for months, maybe even over a year.  Finally, with less than three hours until dance time and no costumes made, she relented.  She went as a cardboard box and I went as a bum. 

Never before has she gotten so many compliments!  However, most people didn’t get the joke.  I was dressed to a P (I even managed to urinate on my leg a little bit).  I had the dirty jeans, the scruffy shoes, the patchy beard, and to give off a rank odor I ate a clove of garlic and some coffee grounds.  When people came up to compliment my wife’s costume I’d spang for a quarter.  Christ on a Catheter!  The lights went off in their eyes just like I was a real bum.  They’d back away and stammer that they didn’t carry change.  I told one guy that I accepted twenties and Visa.  Besides it was all for my box anyway.  To pay for property taxes I explained.

A wasted night alone in the cave of my weird humor.

Glowing or Glowering?

So, I just saw Jon Tester about a half an hour ago.  After he left, a discussion errupted about his general demeanor.

The conservatives in the group thought that he was judging everyone around him.  They thought he was lording it over everyone as he passed us.

The liberals in the group thought that he had a look of satisfaction and accomplishment.  I thought that he had that look of someone who knew how to get shit done, and then got it done.

On further thought, I find it ironic that the republicans, the self-professed party of optimism, often has the first negative thoughts in any conversation or observation.