Nice Haircut

Posted on by Mark Aldrich

Years of haircuts experienced on the hair-bearing side taught me the wrong lesson: that I could do it for/to myself and save money.

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Among the many things that are better left to professionals—piloting a jet, performing almost any surgery, copy editing—cutting hair always should be included. I did not know this until the day I learned it.

Cutting hair looks so easy. The professionals talk to you and even chat amongst themselves while they are doing it, for crying out loud. (Some will even use the word “amongst” while talking: “Your dark hairs are here, amongst the gray ones.”) How do they do that? If you interrupt me while I am merrily typing away, I will pretty much stop typing and begin to glare at you until you decide to ask someone else whatever it is you came to ask me. And how do you know where I live anyway?

One of my barbers back in the early 2000s was a World War II Navy vet who loved to tell stories from his war years while he was wielding his scissors around my scalp. (He was of the old school: No clippers for his customers. “Why give them a cut that they can give themselves?” he would ask-declare. Little did he know how well I knew that lesson. See below.)
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Today in History: September 11

Posted on by Mark Aldrich

September 11, 2001, was a Tuesday. Among many things, it was a Tuesday.

It is a day inscribed in history: four planes were crashed in a coordinated act of mass murder that ended many lives and affected the histories of this nation and many others. Repercussions are still echoing. Every year since 2002, a “Tribute in Light” has illuminated the sky above Lower Manhattan. (Seen above.)

Personal details from that day 15 years ago are etched in almost every American’s heart and memory. (For me, the memories are such that I do not visit them often. I do not feel the need to do so here or today. I had moved from New York to Iowa in May 2000, so I had lived in that great state for a year and a half. I was everyone’s token New Yorker there for the next couple weeks, had my arm touched and even had my hand shaken as if I was some sort of something from “there.” All of it was welcome. I never felt so strange and alone before.)

In mainstream media, Tuesday is the day of the week that albums are released, books are officially published, films debut in theaters.

Among the albums that were released to stores on that infamous date in 2001: Mariah Carey’s soundtrack to her movie of the same name, Glitter; God Hates Us All by Slayer; Nickelback’s Silver Side Up; Ben Folds’ solo debut Rockin’ the Suburbs; The Blueprint from Jay-Z (“H to the Izz-o, V to the Izz-A”); and “Love And Theft” from Bob Dylan.
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Miles to Go Before I … Zzzzzzzz

Posted on by Mark Aldrich

“We measure the quality of our day by the number of achievements we have. Number of documents published versus quality of work, or the number of times this week we beat personal commuting records to and from the office, or numbers of reps at the gym, or, worse, for those dieting, number of days without “cheating,” which represents even more harsh ways to harshly self-judge.
 
“We live in a culture of Other Peoples’ Success and thus exist in a competition with others for more successes than them and yet better ones. This is because, as Brené Brown, a famous sociologist, points out, we live in a “culture of scarcity. We wake up in the morning and we say, ‘I didn’t get enough sleep.’ And we hit the pillow saying, ‘I didn’t get enough done.’ We’re never thin enough, extraordinary enough or good enough—until we decide that we are. The opposite of ‘scarcity’ is not ‘abundance.’ It’s ‘enough.’ I’m enough.”
 
“I’m enough. Not “I’m good enough.” I’m enough. How hard that is to say, and to mean it to be about me, myself, and not you. It is even harder to embrace.— “Get Some Sleep Already,” October 24, 2014

I only remember my nightmares. Which means that either I do not have pleasant dreams at all (not the case) or that I have them all the time but they are unremarkable to me because I live my life under the self-centered guiding philosophy that the only life worth experiencing always feels like a victorious night at an awards ceremony, so I spend my waking life continuously happy and flinging thumbs-up signs at the world (not the case, either).
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