My grandma suggested Rogaine

early morning. My hair loss has reached a new level. It's not amusing. I don't know what to do. What's to do? I don't like my hair. I cut it and still don't like it. I guess there was very little time in my life when I did like my hair. I wonder if that's the way it is with most people. I remember being a kid and hating my curls. In middle school, especially, I just wanted short, straight, brown or black hair like all the cool guys. Like Jay Larner. Funny though. I found a picture of his brother, Woody. He's bald. I wonder where Jay is now.




This somehow connects back to my experience playing on a basketball team in 5th grade. I had never played before and everyone else on the team had. I had no friends on the team. I wasn't particularly fond of basketball. Ever. I'm not sure why I played in the first place. It might've been one of those things where my parents made me do it, promising that I only had to "try it once."

I recall practices where the coach, Mr. Smith (whose daughter now plays professionally in Eastern Europe), would speak of "setting picks" and talk about his "key." These were new terms to me, the pudgy 11-year-old who quit swimming when he was nine and put on 30 pounds since then. I wasn't in the worst shape, though. In the 50th percentile, at least. I was a smart kid. A bit shy. But my main problem was not knowing the rules. I didn't understand fouls or off-sides or double dribbles. Sure I'd seen basketball games before. But I'd never paid attention to the DETAILS. One time I got the ball, freaked out and threw it out of bounds. That was the first and last time I ever got the ball.