over the past week, I’ve written more than 20,000 words in the novel. I’ve been diligently staying off of Facebook [for the most part, of course], and have thrown myself into getting the first draft done.
I’m not a writer, but have friends who are. different things drive them – be it love, tragedy, money or for the simple fact that they like writing.
I suppose that all of those things at one point or another have driven me.
but none more than what you see here.
it started with a little patch on my chin, this was during my time in Nepal, stuck due to the Bangkok Airport riots and not being sure how I was going to get home. a family doctor would tell me that ‘it wasn’t a big deal, happens to some guys and was probably just stress related’.
but it kept spreading.
and I started freaking out.
it was called alopecia areata but I stayed away from calling it that – mainly in due part to an episode of Arrested Development where the guy has it all over and basically becomes the laughing stock of the entire episode.
I laughed a lot when I saw it myself.
this was before I got it.
it might grow back, it might not. in some places, little white hairs grow and in some places they do not.
am I scared it will spread to my head? of course I am. but then again, I like hats, so as long as I get to keep my eyebrows, I’ll be able to deal with it.
but recently, I’ve taken it as a push.
do I consider myself to be ridiculously good-looking? no. a strong 7 and that’s the truth.
do I think I’ve gotten some of the opportunities I have been blessed with because I’m on the better end of the cute stick?
yes I do.
so, the thought of not having decent looks to sell whatever it is I’m doing scared me.
shallow? self-obsessed? sure. I’ll admit to both of those.
but it made me start writing. a whole lot.
and if you see the novel picture of me in a beret, please don’t think I’m trying to be arty.
it’s just that I received a hard lesson on what is really important.
and hey, I used to draw a goatee on myself when I was 13 with a Sharpie – and I’m not adverse to trying it all again.
just please God, let me keep the eyebrows.
Hi, Aric. I wrote a note to you way back when the first patch of your hair went missing. I have a 13 year old daughter with alopecia areata; we have been through every phase of it, including finding out how it can make you a better person if you let it.
Feel free to write me if you want. But your sentence “it’s just that I received a hard lesson on what is really important” tells me you’re on the right path already.
Take care of yourself.
hi Patti – I remember you mentioning that.
very kind of you to write again.
it’s a strange thing, really, but I think a lot of my annoyance/worry comes down to ego. I’m sure it’s a lot different at 13, though.
I will email you.
and thanks again for writing. very, very nice of you.