Human Frailty Made To Look Strong: Part Two

Transition from far left towards the center... but center-left.
Things still confused and distorted.

Some bald men comb-over hair from the sides of their heads, and look quite ridiculous.

Other bald men simply have a hairstyle working around the bald.

Others don't care, while still others adopt the shaven head look.

In my late twenties I realized my hair was going thin.

I tried growing it longer again (like when I was a teenager).

That effort only disguised the thinning.

In the bright sunlight, the obvious was noticeable... my feeble and vain attempts revealed.

I remember my mother buying me some product to stop the thinning or restore my hair; pills and some kind of shampoo.

I did appreciate her help, but decided to forego the unnatural attempt.

I adopted the shaving of the head as a response to vanity's demand.

Having a shaved head, and shaving it myself since then, I've saved (kept) quote a bit money.

Computing $10 every two or three weeks (the typical cost of a barber), I've saved (kept) between $3,000 and $4,000 in my pocket that would have otherwise gone to a barber (sorry barbers).

I bought an electric hair clipper and trimmer for about $30... and I've been my own barber / hair stylist since then... and those two components still work (keeping them maintained).

Some men and women dye their hair to cover the grey, a sign of aging.

My grey began to show also in my late twenties, and it wasn't until my mid thirties the grey in my beard and mustache became more abundant and more obvious.

Why do I have a beard in the first place?

To be quite honest, it is vanity yet again the greater motivator.

To my eyes, I have a small jaw.

Perhaps it is my media programming in always seeing larger and square jawlines growing up.

My wife says it is simply in my head, that my jaw looks just fine and 'normal'.

She's right (like always), but here is yet another vain weakness of mine.

Regarding the grey it doesn't matter to me, if anything grey looks distinguishable (at least to me).

I am sometimes surprised when younger people call me 'sir' yet they are not serving my table or performing some other 'service' for me or trying to sell me something.

I can consider the fact I've grown older, but maybe not the thought that I'm 'old' or look old.

Older I surely am, now in my 43rd year.

Do I look old?

I'm sure, with my bald head and the speckling of grey in my beard... and I'm sure the clothes I wear reflect a bygone era or at least not the current fashions of the young and those paying attention.

Yet, isn't this the case with all who reach older ages?

Some insecure men buy a gun to feel tough or to back up their pride-filled words or for some other reason.

Also at the tail end of my twenties I bought some firearms.

I was knee deep in the political noise at the time.

When the news ran stories of firearms selling out and other instigating news pieces, I bought firearms for 'home protection'.

I didn't buy a handgun because although I was confused about many things at the time (now looking back), I knew my self well enough to know that having a handgun on my person or in my vehicle would be too tempting.

It would be too easy to grab it, flash it, use it, if or when something were to occur on the mean streets of Los Angeles.

I knew too well how having such a weapon can overcome one's better judgment (assuming such already exists) and could embolden one's words to say things regrettable or immoral or wicked.

I was one of those lemmings I must admit when I was in this 'place' (state of mind).

It was an insecure time for me personally, having left church and focused heavily on building my own business more than continuing to build upon the Rock.

I had forgotten the balance; the holding of one thing while not letting go of the other.

I was dating several women at any given time and I only took my self seriously.

I had returned to wallowing in the mud as the swine and the vomit that a dog laps up.

I had grown cynical and suspicious of the world and all women I would come across.

It only takes a single bad relationship to damage someone for someone else in the future.

It also only takes one economic recession to disable people's dreams or hopes for the future, or one lay off, or one bankruptcy.

But hope there always is... so long as we search for Him with all our hearts (repentance).

The recession didn't hurt me as it did others, for I was already self-employed at the time.

It hurt me by calling my loans when I had never missed a payment or been late.

It hurt me by causing me to adjust things in such a way that I realized my part in all the turmoil.

You see, I had learned how to speculate and game the common plight of most others.

This is how I saw things.

When I realized how money is issued into existence and how many people are hurt by the gambling of others, and how people lost their jobs at no fault of their own, and homes, and then their minds and lives, I became depressed.

I couldn't justify my efforts playing a middle man while turning a blind eye to my participation.

I couldn't excuse my indirect participation.

My distaste for all things political and financial at that time drew me further into rebelliousness.

I came very close to becoming one of those people thinking they are rightfully battling the government regarding the bank system and paperwork... what usually ends up being white collar crime and fraud no matter how it is sliced, since the individual isn't the author of law.

I had to face the reality that a game is afoot and if I want to participate, there are rules to follow.

To go too far like some others have, regardless of their high positions or influential friends, would be to lose myself further in becoming like them - becoming that which I despised deep down inside, but somehow had come to emulate and be jealous of.

Again the idolatry, this time with money and the veneer of those faces who wield such power and influence.

My focus swayed from emulating rebellious and raunchy musicians, to a time in church emulating men in sharp suits and strong tongues, to men in sharper suits with forked tongues.

To be continued in Part Three.

Part One.