Like most couples, Ocho and I recycle arguments. In fact, we've totally flattened the cans on a few topics. So I was delighted when we recently got into it about something brand new.
Ocho was at his house in his bed watching a movie on his Macbook. I was at my house making an Excel spreadsheet of my expenses. I called Ocho, looking for a distraction. "Who's in the movie?" I asked. "It's the guy who was in The Mod Squad," he said. "He also was in The Matrix."
"Dude," I said. "You are so not the man when it comes to '70s pop culture. Lawrence Fishburne was in The Matrix, but it was a totally different guy in The Mod Squad."
"Same guy," Ocho insisted.
With that challenge, I opened another browser window and googled a photo of Lawrence Fishburne. Then I googled The Mod Squad. This is one of the photos I found:
All of a sudden, it didn't matter whether the actor in Ocho's movie was Lawrence Fishburne or Clarence Williams III (whose name I'd just found). What mattered is that I'd found a graphic representation of each distinct phase of my hair evolution this past year. I emailed the photo to Ocho. "Check this out," I said on the phone. "Before chemo, I was Julie. For about eight months post-chemo, I was Pete. Now that the rainy season is here, I am Linc."
When people want to tell you something difficult, they often will use we instead of I. "We are tired of hearing about your hair," Ocho announced. "I am too," I said. "Honest. But think about it this way: My hair, and the amount of product and time it takes to do it, is so consuming that it totally distracts me from all the other things that bug me. Dig?"
Silence. Although, I'm sure he was thinking, "Right on, Baby. Right on."
Ocho was at his house in his bed watching a movie on his Macbook. I was at my house making an Excel spreadsheet of my expenses. I called Ocho, looking for a distraction. "Who's in the movie?" I asked. "It's the guy who was in The Mod Squad," he said. "He also was in The Matrix."
"Dude," I said. "You are so not the man when it comes to '70s pop culture. Lawrence Fishburne was in The Matrix, but it was a totally different guy in The Mod Squad."
"Same guy," Ocho insisted.
With that challenge, I opened another browser window and googled a photo of Lawrence Fishburne. Then I googled The Mod Squad. This is one of the photos I found:
All of a sudden, it didn't matter whether the actor in Ocho's movie was Lawrence Fishburne or Clarence Williams III (whose name I'd just found). What mattered is that I'd found a graphic representation of each distinct phase of my hair evolution this past year. I emailed the photo to Ocho. "Check this out," I said on the phone. "Before chemo, I was Julie. For about eight months post-chemo, I was Pete. Now that the rainy season is here, I am Linc."
When people want to tell you something difficult, they often will use we instead of I. "We are tired of hearing about your hair," Ocho announced. "I am too," I said. "Honest. But think about it this way: My hair, and the amount of product and time it takes to do it, is so consuming that it totally distracts me from all the other things that bug me. Dig?"
Silence. Although, I'm sure he was thinking, "Right on, Baby. Right on."
Comments
P.S. Loved your chemo hat post, too. A friend told me her scrapbooking buddy created a whole album of her hats. I didn't have enough for an album, but I thought it was an interesting idea.
I just left a long email on your blog, but wanted to say thank you for emailing mine.
On a lighter note than what I wrote personally, I couldn't be happier that you love your post-chemo hair. Mine, to quote my friend Sam, is heinous. Truly. But I rejoice in others' good fortune :)
Warmly,
Jill
Your site is stunning. I've been there all morning reading and checking out the images (and music!).
Enthusiastically adding you to my mine :)
You're one cool cat, baby! But you're going to have to prove your Linc likeness. I'm w-a-y too proud to actually post my Linc photo here, so I'll have to email it to you :)