Syndrome

My mother left me an urgent message earlier this week. She had been watching the Discovery Channel and heard of a syndrome that she thought both my sister and I could have. So I Googled the disease and it's main symptom is a particular body type.

So, uhm, thanks for looking out, Mom.

Songwriter

I wish I would have written that life is a highway song. Because even though I can't stand that song, that dude is rolling in the dough. I mean, it has been covered and re-covered by like 80 different artists/performers and it is always on a commercial or featured in a movie. That guy was a genius. One classic annoying song and he is set for life.

Life is a highway songwriter, I salute you.

Ready or not...

When it came to hide and seek, I was a rockstar. I could find magnificent hiding spots where no one would ever discover me. I wouldn't giggle or move or make any noise when the seeker came for the hidden. I remember playing hide and seek once when I was about 10 or 11 and my spot was so good that everyone else gave up. I eventually revealed myself only to find that the other players had all taken a nap. The game was over and I had won, I guess.

See what I never got was that, sometimes, the point was to be found. Part of the fun was being caught. I didn't understand that then.

As an adult, sometimes it feel like I am still playing the game. I have devised an excellent hiding place and I can stay there, undisturbed, not giving myself away, probably forever. Lately, though, staying hidden isn't as satisfying. Revealing myself feels scary but I think I am ready.

Game on.

Quandry

Really weird, missing something you never had...

physiology

Oh eye twitch. I don't appreciate you enough when you are gone. But when you return, how I do hate you.

Thank you other witty people.

Humor is the crutch of the plain.

In cahoots with Oprah

Dude. I was totally going to rant about my hair today. Then I went online to the Oprah and low and behold if she and Chris Rock aren't having a show about Black women and their hair. I was stunned to say the least.



I pretty much detest my hair. My accursed, no good, bane-of-my-existence hair. I am ridiculously close to going to the Cost Cutters and having them shave it all off. It annoys me at all times and for all seasons. And I notice a marked change in my mood when I am having the rare good hair day. I feel better about myself when my hair has been de-bigged and and I again have contact with my scalp.



My hair is nappy, straight, curly and kinky. The straight parts are embracked by the trifecta of nappy, curly and kinky causing severe breakage, usually in the back of my head, which is often exacerbated if I am stressed or if I rub my head against my pillow, the back of a jacket or a couch and/or chair.



I would get a weave or wear a wig, but I am too classless to pull off such a look. I know that I would rountinely be scratching my head and move the wig around or pull it off at inopportune times. And I have had braids before. Once in high school, one braid fell out as I was bending over to go in my backpack for a pencil.



I grant you that the hatred of the huge pile of hair on my head is not that big of an issue. I know that were I to lose all of my hair because of an illness that I would be sad and wish that I had appreciated the hot mess while I had it, but I am not in that situation right now. I am in a situation where my hair gets bigger and badder (and not the cool version of bad, but the malevolent meaning) with each passing day. My hair truly has a mind of it's own and I think it is intriguing that Chris Rock has seen the impact that the hair has on his daughters and is trying to do something about it. My father also tried. Once he told me and several others how my hair made me look like a black Shirley Temple.

So, maybe that isn't the same thing.

Anyway, you work with what you got, and my hope is that at some point in my life, my hair and I will agree to disagree. Until then, I think I just might be heading to the Cost Cutters.