Author: Jamie Walker Ball

Dark Energy

Jamie Walker Ball3 Comments

I missed the memo about Dark Energy. 

This past week a trio of sexy uber-geeks were awarded the Nobel Prize for physics for their work which has advanced the understanding of a phenomenon called Dark Energy.  Oversimplified, Dark Energy explains why it is that the universe is expanding at an accelerated pace.  There were some crazy sophisticated telescopes and supernovae involved in figuring this out, but since I was about a C+ physics student, I’ll tap out now in trying to explain it any further. 

When I heard about Dark Energy, I kinda got the heebie jeebies. I mean, I’m already freaked out by entropy, so now I have to deal with the idea that not only are things falling apart, they’re falling apart faster than expected.  Am I the only one who is totally freaked out by this?

The concept of Dark Energy invites the inevitable discussion of The Force, as in, “Use The Force, Luke.” 

You gotta know that the nerds were all over this one before you could say "Photoshop".

In the Star Wars mythology, The Force has a light side, a dark side and it holds the universe together, kind of like duct tape.  Turns out the true state of cosmological affairs might not be too different from Star Wars.  Gravity draws stuff together; Dark Energy pushes stuff apart. And apparently the universe is comprised of a whole lot of Dark Energy.  No wonder I am so tired trying to keep body and soul together.

Another thing about Dark Energy that kind of rocked my world is that it apparently comprises three quarters of the universe, yet until a few years ago, no one knew it existed. Talk about your missed memos. The idea that something can be ubiquitous but somehow imperceptible is pretty trippy.  But here’s the thing…maybe Dark Energy wasn’t discovered until recently because its existence doesn’t fit neatly into  what we already understood about cosmology.  It’s hard to see something that’s not supposed to exist, even if it’s right in front of your face.  My brain isn’t wired to understand these things, but apparently the discovery of Dark Energy represents a revolutionary shift in the way we’re to understand the universe.  I’m not sure what that means, but if permits the advent of teleportation technology like in Star Trek, then I’m totally down with it. 

Seriously...this would make living in Los Angeles so much easier.

I’m not sure what my point is here, and maybe I don’t really have one.  I’m just looking at the stars a little differently these days.  And knowing that there’s a lot of dark energy out there makes me a little more grateful for the light. Stargazing, and memo received.

Feminism & Failures of the English Language

Jamie Walker Ball5 Comments

I missed the memo about feminism and the failures of the English language.


Oh Gwen, how I feel your pain…

The other morning, I shared an elevator with a man who appeared to be in his 40s and another woman who was probably rounding the corner on 60.  In the time it takes to ride up 17 floors, you can have some truly fascinating conversation about weather, how good coffee smells, and the general suckiness Mondays.  I mean, I thought we bonded.  So I was a little dismayed when the man exited the elevator and said: 

“Have a good day, girls.”

“Girls.”  I don’t think I’d ever really taken much notice of being addressed as a “girl” but for some reason, it  bugged me.  Maybe it was the tone.  Or maybe my knickers were already twisted that morning.  Or maybe it really is inappropriate to address two women who could buy cigarettes without showing ID as “girls”. 

It’s a weird thing to work in a male-dominated environment in the age of political correctness.  Most of the time, male colleagues mind their manners, but often the strain of self-censorship is evident.  They don’t want to put a foot wrong, and I don’t want to seem thin-skinned and defensive, and the result is men behaving more politely than is natural for them and me pretending that I don’t know that it’s a total farce.  It’s weird.  I don’t want to be “just one of the guys,” but at the same time, the kid gloves aren’t necessary. 

All evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, I’d like to think that most men have a fairly enlightened attitude about women as their partners and peers in both the professional and personal realms.  So maybe it’s just our language that fails us.  If Mr. Elevator had been chatting with a couple of other men, he may have said, “Have a good day, guys.”  And the word “guys” doesn’t seem to have much of a charge to it, and indeed it’s become nearly gender-neutral.  So what’s the appropriate feminine counterpart to the word “guys”?  Is it, in fact, “girls”?  Certainly, it isn’t “gals”.   (I mean, who says “gal”?)  Is it “doll”, as in “Guys & Dolls”?  I sure as hell don’t know, so I do cut Mr. Elevator a little bit of slack. 

When it comes to gender-specific language, I presume a dissertation or two has been devoted to the exploration of why we have the words we do and what the use of these words does to advance or undermine the cause of gender equality.  These are probably bigger thoughts than I can ultimately get my girly head around.  That’s why I usually just refer to everybody as “dude.”

I don’t really abide, but nonetheless…memo received.

The Trigger Effect

Jamie Walker Ball2 Comments

I missed the memo about The Trigger Effect.

Yesterday, there was a widespread power outage that affected a big chunk of the southwest.  Mercifully, it seems like the lights are now back on, but whenever I hear about a blackout, I get a little shiver thinking about The Trigger Effect.  Like Scorchers, The Trigger Effect is a really good movie that you’ve probably never seen.  (And you probably never will…it’s not on Netflix, WTF?)

The Trigger Effect tells the story of the fairly quick descent into chaos that ensues once the lights go out and stay out.  While there are some sensational plot twists that ramp up the tension, there are also banal crises which lead to all sorts of desperate times and desperate measures.  Like when one of our protagonists, as played by Kyle MacLachlan, is just trying to get the pediatric panacea which is liquid amoxicillin (aka, “the pink stuff”) for his baby daughter, who is miserable with an ear ache.  But because the power’s out, the pharmacist can’t access the prescription in the computer or conduct any transactions.  But our protagonist can see that the pink stuff is right there, it’s on the shelf!  Why can’t the pharmacist just give it to him for Pete’s sake?  For the love of God, his baby is sick!

And it just gets crazier from there.  No phones.  No computers.  No ATMs.  No functional gas pumps.  Looting, violence and mayhem.  And a very frazzled but MILF-y Elisabeth Shue….

Of course, the The Trigger Effect represents a crazy worst case scenario of what might happen during an extended power outage.  For fun, it throws in some wacky coincidences of strangers whose lives intersect in ways that initially seem unpleasant, but insignificant, but later turn out to be a big deal.  As movies go, it really is entertaining.  If you come across it in a bargain bin somewhere, snatch it up.

Interestingly, the term “the trigger effect” seems to have roots in geology, where it has this definition:

When rock is subjected to increasing stresses there comes a time when it is on the point of failure. In some circumstances it may remain at that point for a considerable time. Any small external influence, such as a seismic wave, may then be sufficient to precipitate the failure. This is known as the trigger effect.

I’m not sure if the filmmaker had this definition in mind when choosing the title, but it’s interesting to ponder whether we, as crazy modern people, might be walking around at “the point of failure” all the time.  What are the “seismic waves” that might turn a little crack into a chasm? 

Happily, my friends in San Diego report that after recovering from the initial irritation of being without power, they were totally OK.  Forced to unplug, they enjoyed candle light and star light.  Instead of watching TV or fooling around on a computer, they talked to the precious people they happen to live with.  They still wanted the power to come on before all the food in the fridge spoiled, but as evenings go, it apparently wasn’t too bad. 

Maybe it’s a weird sort of irony that having the convenience of electricity is the very thing that whips us into a frenzy of busy-ness that sometimes has us at our breaking points.  Taking it a way, just for a little while, might bring us back from the brink just a bit.  In any event, everything looks better by candle light, don’t you think? 

Memo received.

Hope

Jamie Walker Ball6 Comments

I missed the memo about hope.

Here in Los Angeles, Hope is a one way street. I kinda like that.

Call me Pollyanna, call me Candide, just don’t call me late for dinner.  I’ll admit it…I’m a pretty hopeless optimist.  I’ll even go so far as to make the following statement: 

 There is no such thing as false hope; all hope is true.
 
President Obama and I have the same birthday and apparently the same ineptitude when it comes to cynicism. Perhaps it’s astrological.

When I say that all hope is true, what I mean is that even when your hopes are disappointed, hope in and of itself is still good.  Hope is creative and emotionally productive in ways that make it an end unto itself. 

Let’s consider an example…let’s say you’ve applied for your dream job.  There’s only so much you can do to influence the hiring decision, and once you’ve done what you can do, you’re left alone with your own heart and head to wait for a decision.  And while you wait, you can hope.  You can envision your happiness and fulfillment in your new job and contemplate all the tangible and intangible rewards that might come your way if you get the offer.  Or, you can choose not to hope.  You can operate under the assumption that you are not getting an offer and therefore not entertain any notions of how the new job might change your life for the better.
 
Some might say a bit pessimism in the job search scenario noted above is just self-preservation.  After all, if rejection does come, the pessimistic person is better prepared, right?  But flip that frown upside down and contemplate that the hopeful person, just by hoping, becomes more prepared for their success.  (And while just hoping for something to happen doesn’t magically make it happen, when you hope, you might be vibrating the molecules of the universe in a particular way which helps to shape a happy outcome, but what the bleep do I know…)
 
While I generally take the Andy Dufresne approach to the positive power of hope, I did learn one disclaimer this morning when I was (shockingly!) listening to NPR.  I heard this story about a young Libyan man, Hisham Matar, whose father was kidnapped in 1990 and has not been seen or heard from since.  In describing how he has coped with this awful thing that happened he said:
 
‘Living in hope is a really terrible thing,’ Matar says. ‘People speak about hope most of the time as a very positive thing. … [But] it’s a very dispossessing thing, it’s a very difficult thing to live with. When you’ve been living in hope for a long time as I have, suddenly you realize that certainty is far more desirable than hope.’ 
 
Damn.  Doesn’t that just break your heart? So hope is awesome when there is a knowable timeline for getting an answer to what you’re hoping about.  But when it’s possible that you’ll never get an answer, then hope can become a bit of a quagmire, I suppose. 
 
But nonetheless, I hope I never stop hoping. Memo received. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Disasters

Jamie Walker Ball1 Comment

I missed the memo about disasters.

So, what a week, right?  Between the earthquakes in Colorado and Virgina and Hurricane Irene, it’s been pretty much non-stop disaster action.  Even for folks like me who weren’t in line of fire, it was pretty exciting stuff.

I’ve lived in California for over ten years now and in that time, I’ve felt an earthquake or two.  Nothing like Northridge, but enough shake a picture off the wall.  Being 17 stories up when a quake strikes is a little weird, that’s for sure.  And though the recent quake in Virginia resulted in mercifully little damage, you won’t hear me mocking the folks who were fairly overcome with anxiety.  Even if the building doesn’t come down around your ears, when a building shakes, it is deeply disorienting and pretty terrifying.  I may live in California the rest of my of life and I don’t think I’ll ever be “used” to earthquakes. 

Before moving to California, I spent my formative years in Navy towns, and living on the coast in both Texas and Virginia, I’ve seen hurricane or two in my day.  Hurricanes are pretty messed up, but theoretically, you have plenty of time to get out of their way.  (That’s what made the loss of life from Katrina so freakin’ shameful; if the preparation and response machine had been firing on all cylinders, no way so many people would have died.) 

My most memorable hurricane experience was Hurricane Allen, which struck the gulf coast of Texas in 1980.  We lived on the Navy Base in Corpus Christi and when the Navy says there’s an evacuation order, it’s pretty much non-negotiable.  We were herded into the base’s movie theatre, and it was all fun and games until the power went out.  And there we stayed.  With no electricity.  For three days.  I remember eating a lot of warm dill pickles and drinking a lot of canned pineapple juice, and to this day, neither is particularly appealing.  Once power was restored to the chow hall, they bussed us refugees over for a hot meal. When I took that first bite of warm buttered toast, it was like manna from heaven.  Usually, a hurricane won’t kill you, but it can strip you of your civilization pretty quickly and completely.  And you really don’t realize how cozy life usually is, until it isn’t. 

The one natural disaster that I haven’t experienced and hope I never do is a tornado.  With an earthquake, you get no warning.  With a hurricane, you get days to prepare.  But with a tornado, you get maybe a couple of minutes. Psychologically, that’s rough.  You see the sky turn yellow and gray, maybe you hear a siren, or emergency announcement on the radio or TV and you have to make some decisions.  Fast.   If you panic or dilly-dally, you could die.  I don’t know how I’d cope with that kind of pressure. 

So now that the worst seems to be over, at least for now, I’m reflecting on the lessons that emerge from all these natural disasters…

1.  A roomful of Ph.Ds in meteorology and geology could talk ’til they were blue in the face and yet there would still be people who would be unpersuaded that the coincidence of earthquakes and a major hurricane in the same week is nothing more than coincidence.  Seriously, if God is behind this, then God is really, really bored these days. 

2.  The gallows humor that springs forth in the wake of natural disasters is pretty awesome, as coping mechanisms go.  Under this kind of stress, I suppose we have to crack up or crack up, know what I mean?

3.  “Better safe than sorry” is as annoying as it is true.  I’m guessing many a New Yorker is feeling pretty put out by the suspension of subway service, but I shudder to think what would have happened if Irene had gotten really bitchy and folks got trapped in the subway.  I’m no engineer, but to me, flash flood + subway tunnels = the most nightmarish scenario, ever. 

And, hey, wasn’t it  just a couple of months ago that there were a ridiculously unfair number of tornadoes that devastated communities in Missouri and Alabama?  I don’t think it would be at all unreasonable if we asked Mother Nature to just chill the F out for a while so we can all catch our breath and buy more batteries. 

Flashlight at the ready and memo received.

Slowing Down

Jamie Walker Ball3 Comments

I missed the memo about slowing down.

Ever feel like the universe is trying to tell you something? The other day my darling boy started expressing some curiosity about why we have night-time and day time and so I did what all good, modern parents do: I went looking for videos on YouTube.  Amongst the gems I discovered, this one turned out to be our favorite:

Seriously, the tempo of this music is such that I could actually feel my heart slow down as my son and I watched and listened. This is the closest I’ve gotten to meditating in a long, long time.

Then, the other day, as I was rushing back to my car during a lunch-time errand, I noticed this bumper sticker:

Shockingly, this bumper sticker was on a VW Bus which also featured the classic, “Mean People Suck, Nice People Swallow.” Nonetheless, I think the thing about the fast lane is spot on.

The video and the bumper sticker kinda seemed like a 1-2 punch reminding me of the merits of slowing down.  I have spent so much of my life rushing around like a crazy person.  I walk fast.  I talk fast.  I am impatient with microwave ovens.  I used to think this was a sign of my industry and efficiency, but I’m giving this a second thought.

I hurry, hurry, hurry….theoretically moving forward, but towards what? I suppose what I’m contemplating is something like this:

Is there a book called "All I Needed To Know About Life I Learned From Bumper Stickers"? If not, there should be.

I have goals, ambitions, plans, and sometimes it feels like my life consists almost entirely of my schemes and machinations designed towards achieving those plans, but that brings me to yet another bumper sticker:

Before you cross the street, take my hand….Go listen to John Lennon’s “Beautiful Boy”….I’ll wait….

Incidentally, here’s me at my 26th birthday party, blowing out the candles on a cake on which I had asked that the above-referenced quote about life and plans be inscribed…

 

So here I am, twelve years later, still trying to figure out the difference between planning my life and my actual life.   At this rate, it appears I’ll be mulling this memo over for some time to come, but in the meantime,  I’ll just try to slow down.  Memo received.

Smartphones and Dumb People

Jamie Walker Ball9 Comments

I missed the memo about smartphones and dumb people.

We've come a long way, baby?

Well, I did it. After resisting for a couple of years, I finally got a smartphone.  I’m slightly techno-phobic so new gadgetry tends to scare me more than entice me. But more and more, I was starting to suspect that I was missing out on this whole world of convenience and connectedness that people with smartphones seemed to be enjoying.  So I got my smartphone, and it was embarrassingly easy to use.  Seriously, my 3-year-old had it figured out in minutes.

I totally get how nifty it is to have internet access in your pocket and all the apps are just ingenious and everything, but I’m not sure I like the side effects of smartphones.  Maybe it was the novelty of it, but the first night I had my new phone, I was answering work e-mails at the dinner table . The idea that I had such easy access to my e-mail made me think for a minute that I actually had to read and respond to them immediately.  But then I remembered that I am neither a workaholic nor an asshole, so I’ve since banished the phone during meals and other sacred family times.

The blessing and curse of smartphones is that they allow for a lot accessibility and spontaneity.  I remember an era that when you called someone, it was always on a phone that was firmly affixed to a wall in their house and if they weren’t home or they were talking to someone else, dem was da berries.  Now, you can call, text, Skype, e-mail, IM, or find them on Twitter or Facebook, or whatever the social media site de jour might be.  Modern people are imminently accessible and consequently we don’t get a moment’s peace, I think.   I find I love movie theatres and airplanes more and more these days because they’re the only places that I feel free from the cell phone tether.

And spontaenity….I suppose it’s a good thing that smartphones allow us to make plans on the fly.  We can coordinate with friends, last-minute, look up restaurants, buy tickets, get directions, etc., etc. But I kinda like planning and certainty, so “playing it by ear” is not my forte.  I like making plans and having all the details and logistics sorted out well in advance, but then again I do need to lighten up.

The thing I think is really funny and just a little tragic about smartphones, or mobile phones more generally, is that even though they’re supposed to ensure that we stay connected, they do seem to alienate people from each other, at least in some instances. Did you hear about this study in which it was determined that lots of people use their phones to actively avoid other people?  I know I’ve done it.  Even though I like talking to strangers, sometimes, if I’m feeling awkward or shy, I’ll just get out my phone and do something useless so I don’t have to engage with the people around me.

On the whole, I have to admit that the advent of smartphone technology is pretty amazing and I am glad I have one now. But I just don’t want to my smartphone to make me dumb….


I’m not sure who this guy is, but I found this video on the interwebs, and to him, I say, PREACH!  and memo received.

Memes, Membership & Modern Friendship

Jamie Walker Ball10 Comments

I missed the memo about memes, membership and modern friendship.

This is the first post I’m writing which is inspired by a prompt from another blogger.  So Helen Redding at Crumbs and Pegs, thank you for the kick in the ass to put together a few thoughts.  Helen passed the torch of a simple exercise, which is to make a list of “10  Things You Don’t Know About Me.” 

I was tickled to be asked to participate because getting these little invitations feels good.  When I’m tagged in a Facebook note, or when I clue in on some viral video early rather than late, I feel like one of the cool kids, like I’m in the club and in on the joke.  It’s a small thing that feels like a big deal. 

And the “10 Things You Don’t Know About Me” prompt called to mind the fun Facebook meme that was really popular back in 2009. Did you write your list of “25 Random Things”? I did, and I’m going to poach from it (sorry, is that cheating?)  because between writing that list and telling you that I got bad Botox and I didn’t learn to drive until college, I’ve pretty much already spilled all my secrets.   Well, not really, but a lady needs to maintain at least a little mystery…

And just one more tangent before I get to my list…getting Helen’s tweet got me thinking of the nature of modern friendship.  Helen lives a continent and an ocean away from me, but because of social media, we’re very accessible to each other and we could, in theory, become very good friends.  And never meet.  Ever since I switched over from dial-up, I’ve wandered into various forums and chatrooms and eventually found my way into some really meaningful friendships with people I might not recognize on the street and whose voices I have never heard.  Trippy, huh?  Sadly, I think there’s a tendency to de-value these connections as somehow “unreal” or less important than one’s “friends in real life”. 

I think there’s a fair amount of justifiable cynicism surrounding online friendships, because people can portray themselves inauthentically online and that can lead to all sorts of dishonesty and confusion.  Typically what I find myself doing is trying to make the virtual me resemble the best version of the real me, which is no different from what I’d be doing if I were meeting new people at a cocktail party. I think that’s aspirational, not dishonest, but let’s discuss…

Anyway, I’ve prattled on, as I often do.  So, after much ado and unsolicited exposition, here are Ten Things You May Already Know Don’t Know About Me:

1.    I have been mistaken for both an albino and a foreign exchange student; I am/was neither.  I suppose being a fair-skinned girl with a fondness for Fisherman’s sweaters makes people in Virginia Beach think that you’re Icelandic. 

2.   My eyes are probably blue, but I like thinking that they’re green.   (A beautiful French boy once serenaded me with Elton John’s “Your Song“…”you see, I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue…” I nearly died from the romance.)

3.  I get a little depressed when I’m not super busy; I consider this a pretty serious personality problem.   And by busy, I mean frenetically starting new things and often not finishing them.  Seriously, it’s kinda effed up.

4.   I have a rare blood type.  (And I therefore give blood regularly; if you can, so should you!)

5.  I like hiding behind my glasses.  As my vision deteriorates with age and eye abuse, I really haven’t given any thought to wearing contacts.  To the extent that stereotypes about bespeckled people persist, I aim to fully live up to them by being the biggest nerd I can possibly be. 

6.  I am a fantastic dancer but a wretched singer.  In a Hip Hop dance class I once took, a fellow student, who happened to be about 13 years old, complimented me by telling me that I “really worked it” and that I was “the best of the moms”.  At the time, I had no children, but coming from a tween, this was high praise.  And seriously, I’ve got some moves.  But my singing…even my son, who loves me, says, “Stop Singing!”

7.  Becoming a lawyer has made me bitchier than I was before; I have mixed feelings about this.

8.  Even though I’ve never been there, I daydream about moving to New Zealand.   (See item No. 1 above; I think I might blend in nicely as a Kiwi.)

9.  My mom and I look a lot alike, but I’ve been asked by more than one person if I was adopted.  Never has a question been more hurtful and validating at the same time. 

10. The kid behind the counter at Long John Silver once told me that I had a great aura. Not sure what he meant by that.

So that’s it.  Except for the passing it along part…

1000 Reasons I’m A Crap Mom

The Chloe Chronicles

It’s Fitting

Le Musings of Moi

Tag, you’re it. Memo received.

San Diego (a.k.a., My Happy Place)

Jamie Walker Ball3 Comments

I missed the memo about San Diego, also known as, my Happy Place.

It really is this pretty. San Diego is what mid-westerners dream of when they dream of California.

This past weekend I made the quick trek down the 5 freeway to spend a day at the BlogHer Conference.  Before a few weeks ago, I didn’t know that BlogHer even existed, but as I have begun dipping my toes into the weird, wacky, and sometimes wonderful universe that is the Blogosphere, I’m learning more and more about a fascinating community of people who blog for fun, for a cause, for business, or for all of the above.  It was a fantastic learning experience and I met some really lovely people.  Good times.

Being relatively new to the world of blogging and virtually unconnected within the blogging community, I was a little nervous about attending the BlogHer conference all by myself.  But the fact that the conference was being held in San Diego pretty much sealed the deal.  Because you see, San Diego is my Happy Place. 

Since living in Los Angeles, I’ve visited San Diego a bunch of times and every time it seems like  I make happy memories there.  There was the time my husband and I took the Surfliner down to San Diego and enjoyed a ridiculously and hilariously unexpected display of public nudity as we happened to be riding the train on that special day every year when hundreds of people line the fence and bare their bums as the train passes by. 

Seriously, we laughed until we cried and then we laughed some more.

And since my son has come along, I’m grateful to have a family-friendly vacation destination relatively close by.  We’ve taken him to Legoland (which is technically north of San Diego) and to the World Famous San Diego Zoo and on both trips we had ridiculous amounts of family fun.  If they would build a  Dinosaur Train World in San Diego, they’d have a perfect pre-school trifecta and we’d probably go down there and never come back. 

My son beholds a dinosaur made of legos...this rocked his world.

I feel really lucky to have a gorgeous place like San Diego just a car ride away.  And when I’m itching to escape my every day life, all I need is half a tank of gas.  For those of you who don’t live near San Diego, I’m a little sorry for you, but guess what?  I bet you there’s a Happy Place near where you live, too.  All you need to do is to pick a place you like and do a little magical thinking.   You just have to tell yourself that your Happy Place is special and happy things will always happen there.  It really is amazing what a self-fulfilling prophecy that can be.  Happy blogging, fellow BlogHers.  Maybe NYC will become our new Happy Place next year? 

Memo received.

Mirrors, Mistakes, & Bangs

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I missed the memo of about mirrors, mistakes, and bangs.

 

Back when I was in college, a boyfriend gave me a copy of Minding the Body, which is an excellent anthology of essays by women writers in which they recount some experience of what it has been like for them to inhabit their own bodies.  All the stories are captivating, but I was particularly spellbound by “Mirrors” which was Lucy Grealy’s story of avoiding her reflection for an entire year. 

Ms. Grealy had been stricken with cancer in her jaw as a child, and to save her life, doctors had to dismantle the lower part of her face.  With a lot of painful surgery, doctors put her face back together, but the process was long and there were a lot of  “transitional asthethetics” along the path of facial reconstruction.  There were tissue expanders and monstrous amounts of swelling after surgery, so as she described it, she would tend to look a lot worse before she started looking better.  Rather than confront her face as it was changing, Ms. Grealy assiduously avoided looking at herself in any reflective surface.  For a year.  Wow.  Psychologically, this must have been trippy, but it was amazing to note how liberating the experience ultimately was.  When you’re free from pre-occupation with self-image, where might you direct all that extra energy? 

Compared to Ms. Grealy’s ordeal, my predicament is ridiculous and petty, to be sure, but I have been thinking about her recently as I confront the “transitional aesthetic” which is my badly Botoxed forehead.  I totally get not wanting to look.  When you look at something that seems like it needs fixing, then the need and desire to fix it becomes pretty consuming.  When you don’t look, that drive to fix and change things retreats just a bit.  Though I have seen a little improvement in my crazy Botox eyebrows, I nonetheless don’t really linger in the mirror these days.

Of course the big difference between me and Lucy Grealy is that she got dealt the cancer card and had no choice but to play it, whereas I voluntarily gambled with Botox and lost.  I made a silly, vanity driven mistake.  While I feel a little foolish about getting the Botox in the first place, I’m feeling a little proud of myself that I’m not rushing back to the dermatologist to “fix” it.  I made my Botox bed, so now I shall lie on its wrinkle-free sheets. 

What sealed my decision to forego additional Botox to “fix” my forehead was the realization that if Botox was the problem and also the solution, there’d be no telling where this might end up.  It’s like that time I tried trimming my son’s hair and kept cutting and cutting  just to even it up.  Instead of getting better and better, it just got worse and worse…. 

"Holy shit, Mom? What the deuce did you do to my hair?!"
And speaking of haircuts, for the first time since about 10th grade, I now have bangs and they are doing a decent job of providing a bit of camouflage for my silly affliction. 
Having fringe in my face is taking some getting used to...

They say the difference between a good haircut and a bad haircut is two weeks.  So perhaps the difference between good Botox and bad Botox is about three months.  Waiting patiently and memo received.