My Week in Hair

Big on hair? Got questions about it? This is the blog for you. Each week, Big Hair answers your hair questions and shares an incident involving his hair, your hair, or the hair of the person next to you.

Monday, September 25, 2006

Factory on Fire

I am reminded of an e-mail sent to a coworker in the middle of a project. "Can't respond now, factory on fire," it said. "Sprinklers have come on. Everything is wet." Tonight is a night much like it. No factory is on fire but I am. No news this week. I will post again when I feel better.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Hermit Ways

I may be becoming a hermit. Saturday night comes into being, and I prefer to stay home, reading, writing. Or better, I prefer to go out, alone, to a place that is quiet but that has people in it, and sit and read.

A few weeks ago, it was a swimming party where I was. I talked a bit with one guy there and later one woman and felt uncomfortable for the rest--and I knew everyone there. This weekend, it was my friend Andy's birthday party. It was a party with Chris Top, whose birthday it also was. I didn't think I knew Chris, but it turned out I did--we'd gone to a baseball game earlier in the year together. But outside of those two, I didn't know anyone. Everyone seemed much younger than me. And really, I wanted to be at home--doing my laundry, giving myself a haircut.

I stood around staring at the sky, listening to music, eating cake, and generally looking stupid. If I'd been smart, I'd have insisted on inserting myself into someone's conversation, and yet I didn't feel up to it.

That didn't stop me from getting dragged into a conversation with a couple of friendly folks. It was Chris Top and some woman from Germany. We talked of Southern California (Chris is from San Diego, me from L.A., and the German girl was thinking of moving out there). Then Chris went away, and it was just me and the girl. I didn't know what to say, but I made small talk all the same. She was post-doc in biology, so I asked about her projects: sunflower genetics.

Do you really want to know? she asked. Yes, I said. I did. She told me. But even she seemed bored when she told me about it. Try as I did to encourage her to share with me her work, I sensed I only managed to prolong her own boredom. Eventually, she wandered off to get a drink. And me? I wandered off to do some laundry and shave my head.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Day of Baldness 2

It's the name of a horror movie sequel--or should be. I see zombies in the future, bald ones, with pus coming out of their heads from not having worn a cap. Death by sunburn (which probably would be one of the most hurtful ways to go around, at least in terms of the length of the torture).

But I was not one to be part of this movie, at least not this weekend. On my way to work on my friend Courtney's chicken coop this weekend, I actually remembered to grab a cap before I left. I walked again. It was sunny and quite warm, but my head was protected. The protection kept me from getting burned, but it did make things a bit warmer. Things cannot be perfect after all.

Here's the protective gear this weekend: an Angels baseball cap. I hate baseball caps these days, I guess, because they make me look like some kind of sports nut. Even if I actually am an Angels and Dodgers fan, a baseball fan, I am not the kind who would wear sports team paraphenalia. (Now that I'm older, I wish I'd kept that Kauia painters' cap that I never wore.) But alas, I am the kind to wear such items, because if they're in the wardrobe, they get worn, even if I don't like them. So I had the cap AND the shirt on yesterday. The shirt was a birthday gift from about seven years. It isn't just a tee shirt: it's a jersey. It was all Angels. I looked like some kind game-day pimp.

And I helped put together a chicken coop--or part of it. Apparently, this is not me either (according to others), though I like to pretend to be a woodworker.

But at least I didn't get burned.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Day of Baldness

My mom once said that one never feels one's age except in the bone's. That is, even at sixty, one is twenty-two in one's mind--it is only when trying to run a mile or load a bundle of goods into the trunk of a car that one discovers one's age. The mind is willing, but the flesh has become weak. I would say that the same is in some ways true of baldness. I do not think about not having hair up there atop the head until often it is too late.

Yesterday, I was to work some frisbee golf/ultimate frisbee activity; I was never quite certain what it was. I had at the time that the call for volunteers went out nothing better going on that weekend, and with the activity right where I live, I couldn't justify not helping out. I was also in one of those moods where I felt that my life had so little significance or use that at the very least I could put it to use doing this for some guy that needed volunteers and for a church that wanted some money as a fundraiser.

The activity was in fact within walking distance, and I walked it. I left early, since I wasn't sure how long it would take me. I got to the field by 12:15; I was supposed to be there by 1:00. No one was there, so I sat on a step at the top of football field and realized at the moment that I should have brought a hat. It was sunny, and I was going to be eaten up.

Others arrived, which was a good thing--otherwise, I'd have worried about having shown up at the wrong place, since the main guy in charge never did show up. Apparently, as I found out later, he had had car problems. I moved into the shade. We waited until 1:20; I walked around the facilities for another ten minutes after just to make sure the guy in charge wasn't hiding out somewhere. I was somewhat relieved to avoid the activity, since I thought I would be safe, having spent a large chunk of time in the sun. But after walking home, I had a headache. Looking in the mirror, the reason was clear. I was very red. It seems unfair not to have hair up there; I mean, hair has a purpose, one of which is to protect you from the sun. But alas, I guess I was not made for sun.