Bald Focus

Wednesday, August 20, 2003. 621 W. Lombard Street, Room 425. 9:00 P.M. Dark.

Really, talking about this becomes rather bittersweet. I accepted Maryland’s offer to join the two hundred forty-five other first year law students. Was it my decision? Yes, insofar as I signed the acceptance fees, the loans are all in my name, and I’m sitting here in the Baltimore Student Union, Room 425, talking about this. From here on out, whenever I lament this choice, know that the stress yells much louder than I can. Know also that I felt what I feel now at the beginning of elementary school, middle school, high school, and college. I’ll probably want to vomit on my first boss’ loafers, scream at my first wife while at the altar, and cry when my first child is born. Out of sorrow mind you, not joy.

If I wrote about my emotions, all you’d read would be post-teenage neo-angst. So, I’ll try to combine my isolated experiences with the world around. As such, this will more be my perspective of life while I am at law school, and not life within law school. This is not to say it will be sunshine and lollipops, just that if I’m angry, it will be beyond my tiny world.

Of course, if you ask me about life within law school, I will be more than happy to grunt non-commitally and gesture towards the nearest toilet.

[Told you I didn’t like it since day one. –K]

***

M.R. and W.C. are getting married in less than a month (and M.R.'s birthday is a few days before that. Someone remind me in case I forget). As such, I have to make sure not to do anything stupid to myself. Like back in college, when my cousin A.L. married his wife, she saw me with my orange hair (dyed of course), and said "Oh, no, you are not having that in my wedding pictures." I had to dye my hair black, and it looked a little off because it wasn't as dark as my night-black hair. This was also before the white hairs started to peek through.

Thus, my plan of shaving my head clean-bald will have to wait again.

Yeah, I'm flirting with the idea again. There are a few reasons for it. The saddest one is that I'm having trouble coming up with things to post about, due to the aforementioned difficulty in general with communicating. I could definitely mine my shaved head for a long time, starting with a pic of my shaved head. Then again, is it really worth it to do something just for the stories? (yes, I have done things before just for the story.)

I think I might look fairly fucking badass with a shaved head. No clue what shape my head, and how big the neglect spot really is, but I think, after a few days in the sun, that I could pull it off. Walking around, shorn scalp, slight frown on my face except when children and women walk by. Maybe add a little scar on my cheek (via makeup) to increase my badass look. Apply the deep waxes to give it that special gleaming.

Chemotherapy is one of those things that I want to understand, without having to first-hand experience. A shaved head (plus shaved eyebrows! Yes, I am off-kilter!) would at least give me the experience of people staring at me in confusion, or compassion, or fear, or hatred (grow your hair out and get a job, burnout). What other medical treatments attempt to rob you so blatantly of your humanity, just as they attempt to save your very humanity? Like a woman carved out of ice, cold yet peculiarly alluring.

Really, I'm just kind of bored. Most of my waking hours are now immolated in writing for whatever reason, and though it's fulfilling (well, not technical writing), I need something else to do. If that something else entails pretending to be a shaolin monk, so be it.