Gimme a Break (start at the neck!)

So, allergy season this year is complicated for me by a possible cyst or polyp in my sinuses. Basically, i've had a headache for two weeks, now. I can manage by using drugs, but I'm always aware of it. So, forgive me if I'm a little grumpy.

I had this kinda unique experience the other day: I'm reading an article in Time Magazine about whether to dye grey hair or not, while some parents cannot control their 2 year old a few feet away from me. For a second there, I felt really old: Kids bother me, while grey hair doesn't. But, then, i realized that it's the same as always with me: kids, in and of themselves, interest me. It's the bad behavior that annoys. Really, don't bring your 2 year old to a loan closing. it's long and boring, and the kid will rebel. As for dye? Do as you wish, no skin off my back, but what you're talking about is attractiveness, pure and simple. If you really think that you're held back at work, or that you're not taken seriously because you have grey hair, you probably should be held back at work, and you probably shouldn't be taken seriously. Because you're superficial. If you choose to dye your hair, at least realize that you're doing so because you don't find yourself attractive. Simple as that. Honestly, get a grip. You're only getting older. It's not some massive calamity. I've got a few grey hairs, and more than a few missing ones. Yet, I have teenagers always saying how 'cool" I am, and the other day, a woman in her twenties compared me to the Buddha. They aren't thinking that I'm attractive. I don't share their interest in Halo video games, and the career of Paris Hilton (pro or con) and it's been a very long time since I quote-unquote "sold out". I'm fully an adult. But, I simply live as I always do. I face forward, and I do my best to accept what comes down the pike. I think people, even young people can respect that.

But, to completely revoke all that, let me tell you about a dream I had the other night:

I dreamt that I was going to talk with the members of Shellac, at their rhearsal space, which was a somewhat middle-eastern looking warehouse. We were talking in a side room, where they were showing odd musical gadgets. For some odd reason, known only to my subconscious, The professional wrestler, Booker T was now their drummer, and he had invented a kind of drum machine where he could generate beats by pedalling a recumbant stationary bike. Meanwhile, Steve Albini had a kind of tone generator by encasing an electromagnet inside a ceramic toy guitar, and waving it around a tube amplifier. (yes, both inventions still sound like fun to me, even wide awake) Because I thought both were interesting, we started getting into discussion about how each of us found ourselves on such off-the-beaten-path explorations. When I was explaining myself, I said that I guess it started around birth for me. I'm physically awkward, and have very little hand-eye co-ordination. So, I'd break toys, and get into trouble with other kids, so I learned very early on that I cannot break my imagination, and I cannot get into trouble by simply thinking, so naturally, I followed those pursuits, and learned to live inside my head. Around this time, a baseball had been produced (symbolism, anyone?) and we were tossing it around. To my surprise, I caught it, but when I threw it, my aim wasn't true, and I beaned somebody's daughter (looked about 4) I felt mortified, even though the little girl seemed ok.That mortification is what woke me up (to yet another headache)

Now, I realize that every "character" in a dream is actually the dreamer, so I realize that this was basically a conversation with myself, but I think I know myself a little better because of it. I have parts of me that are creative, and parts that are athletic, and parts that are entertaining, and parts that are child-like, but all of me is a little bit strange. That's just genetics, I guess, and I'm happy to be a little bit strange. But you'll notrice that even in my dreams, I can both accept and reject myself at the same time. So, I'm ok. You're OK.  It's just those darn baseballs we have to worry about!