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Crazy Head
by Elizabeth
Bussey Sowdal |
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The
moral of this story is, "Never let a crazy person near your head."
I don’t even have to tell you the story for you to know that this
is very good advice. In fact, I can think of no possible scenario
involving heads and crazy people when this advice would not be absolutely
sound.
There is a story, as you surely knew that there must be. It involves
a haircut. I use the term loosely. There was hair and parts of it
were cut. Other parts were buzzed. Some parts were hacked. Some was
left alone entirely. Now, while I know that there was hair involved,
I do not necessarily know for certain that there was a crazy person
involved. You cannot just decide that someone is crazy based on, oh,
I don’t know, their behavior, their manner of speech, their grammar,
or their hair cutting ability. You just can’t jump to a conclusion
like that. So I will stand firmly behind my statement about letting
crazy people near your head, but I will not go so far as to say that
there was a crazy person near my head. This is where the word "apparently"
becomes very, very useful.
Sometimes when a person has a unique artistic vision, and when that
vision is different from the mainstream, they are viewed, initially,
before they become famous and admired and lauded, as being crazy.
Take painters for example. Vincent Van Gogh. People thought he was
crazy. Because he was. Koo-Koo for Cocoa Puffs. But that was okay,
because he was a painter and not a hairdresser. Unless he had aspirations
to hairdressing that have been lost to history, in which case the
whole unpleasant ear incident makes much more sense.
So,
one might argue that if one got – oh, I don’t know – say a really
horrendous haircut just to pull an example out of the blue, why one
might say that they were serving an important role by supporting the
arts. That person might boast about the masterpiece that was her coif,
and pass out cards to all her really good friends and have her picture
taken for the arts section of the newspaper and become the envy of
everyone far and wide. She might look into the mirror and gasp – GASP!
– "my heaven’s! It is sooo completely and absolutely . . . random.
It is like you took man’s uncertainty about his role in the Universe,
his relevance – is he nothing more or less than a virus floating on
a mote of dust in an endless expanse of Nothingness? Or is there a
meaning? A mission? Are we each here as individuals for some holy
Purpose? And to think that you have translated the existential angst
of an entire species, suffered throughout the long history of that
species, and translated it into this piece of living, breathing, breathtaking
art on top of my head. I bow to you. I am humbled. I must go out and
share this with humanity."
Or, when handed the mirror and spun around in the chair with her back
to the mirror she might feel her soul swell within her. She might
say, "Oh. My." She might stop and realize that she must be very careful,
that it was possible that this particular haircut was some kind of
spiritual challenge – something similar to the old ugly lady at the
well in the fairy tale, who asks a series of handsome young men to
draw her water from the well for her and they all refuse because she
is repulsive until one comes along who is not only handsome but Good,
and Kind, and Brave and True as well. He draws the water for her even
though she has chin hairs and tuna breath and something appears to
be crawling along the part of her hair and then it turns out that
she is the most beautiful woman in the world, but was in disguise
trying to find the last nice guy around. So he wins. Maybe it was
something like that. So the recipient of the haircut might say, "Hmm.
All done? Well thank you so much. No, that’s okay, you don’t have
to do the front too. Uh-uh, don’t worry! See, this way I feel like
I got a good bargain because I have two completely different hairstyles
on my head for the price of one! In fact, I have been getting my hair
cut every couple of months or so my whole life and you are the very
first person who ever even asked me if they should do the front too!
I think you are really on to something, you know, asking that and
all because it gives people options. So, I’ll just be running along.
No, honestly, you’ve done enough. Bet you’re ready to take a little
break. Have a soda or something, some medicine or something. I mean
because sometimes people have to take medicine to help them. That’s
all. Ooops! Look at the time! Have to run!" And then RUN! Some people
might do it that way.
And then maybe come home, take a shower. And make a hair appointment.
© Elizabeth Bussey Sowdal
"The Girl Detective's Theory
of Everything"
April 24, 2008 Column
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