Haircuts, Portland, Trump and Depression... Just another day in paradise...
One of the most annoying thing about having Asperger's is how traumatic it can be to do very simple, routine things. Like I've mentioned before, grocery shopping, for instance, can be very difficult. To combat this, I buy the same things, in the same order, while walking the same path throughout the store. This makes it easier to deal with and I can essentially shut my brain off to avoid any potential panic and/or freakouts. But, if there is someone, say, looking at eggs when I come to the buying eggs point in my route, I can feel my blood pressure rise and I become very agitated to the point where it might ruin my day or I might simply leave the store and all my groceries, and try again another day. It's frustrating, to say the least; especially for my poor girlfriend. None of this could (or should, as a practical matter) make sense to her, so she's left to try and deal with my insanity, which, God bless her, she mostly does. Occasionally, and quite understandably, she'll get upset with me and my shitty attitude which only makes me even more ornery. It's not a pretty cycle, but, try as I might, I cannot stop or change it in any way. My brain is just not wired to work another way. I wish it was; mostly for her sake. But, we all have our shit to deal with. Speaking of...
So, another very normal thing that has been traumatic for me for as long as I can remember is getting my hair cut. I don't really remember why, or what the impetus for this was, but it's very emotionally, mentally and physically draining for me to get a haircut. For years, it was so bad that I had to literally get blackout drunk before I could face it. It's very strange to wake up with a new haircut, having no memory of how/why/where it happened, but so it goes. I felt terrible for the poor gal in New York City who, thrice, had to cut the hair of a man teetering in and out of consciousness/sleep. Needless to say, she received a very large tip each time, something like $30 or $40 (on a $25-30 haircut) if I remember correctly. She definitely earned it...
It's getting better, but it still helps a great deal that Bishop's in Portland cracks you open a beer the minute after you write your name down on the waitlist. Bishop's is one of those "alternative-type" hair salons where there are pictures of naked ladies on the bathroom walls and anything from Bon Iver to Megadeth can be heard on the speakers overhead. The hair stylists are similarly diverse and there's something very comforting in that, for reasons I don't quite understand. I suppose it's just because I feel more at home with the black makeup crowd than the typical hair-cutting crowd. Actually, that's probably it. I can feel at home with almost any anyone, race/religion/sexuality/etc., but I cannot deal with people who like to get their hair cut. I just don't understand them and cannot connect with them in any way... Anyhow, after a cool, crisp, refreshing Montucky tallboy, my name was called and it was my turn. I started my usual cold sweat and did my best to pretend I wasn't terrified inside. "Hey, my name is_______." she said very dryly. I think it started with a "J." I can never remember hair stylists' names. It's probably because I'm so focused on not having a borderline panic attack that those details slip through the cracks and right out of my brain, like a hotel key card down an elevator shaft. She definitely fit the bill for a Bishop's barber. "Probably a big Deerhoof fan," I thought. Then, "why the fuck would that be the band I think of?" Then, "but, then again, who isn't a Deerhoof fan?" "Lots of people, you dumbass. You're an idiot..." These are the conversations I have with myself regularly. I'm sure she said something else while I was having this inane conversation, with myself, in my brain, but I didn't hear her. Just nod, I've learned over the years...
"What are you looking for today?" she asked. I, as I always do, pulled up a picture on my phone of what I looked like with the hair I would like to once again have. She said "OK" and then some other questions I don't remember, to which I replied "that sounds good" while, again, nodding. She started cutting the constantly growing dead cells of the top of my head. "Any plans for the weekend?" she asked. Casually, and without thinking, which I am unable to do during a haircut anyways since the only thought I can muster is "I'm going to be OK..." over and over, I said that my girlfriend and I were thinking of going to the women's march against Trump. She simply replied with "I have some friends going to that but I'm going to be working."
We chatted for a while about that before it struck me just how fucking weird this whole situation is. HOW THE FUCK DID WE GET TO A POINT WHERE A MARCH AGAINST THE PRESIDENT OF THE FUCKING UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IS A FUCKING CASUAL AFFAIR? How divided are we as a country that people protesting the President of the United States, normally one of the most influential and respected people in the ENTIRE WORLD, is a normal, expected, acceptable thing? I understand that by living in Portland, Oregon I live in an extreme version of this scenario (although, racially it's still a very strange city. I can't remember who made the joke first, but that the black population of Portland is dependent on whether the Blazers are playing a home game or not, which illustrates well the demographic of this city. It is very welcoming to gays, homeless and other normally estranged groups, but at almost 90% white, it still has a weird not-quite-there-yet vibe). Like many major cities, there is a bubble that exists here that only takes 5-10 miles in any direction to disappear. I often compare Oregon to my home state of Wisconsin. Outside of Portland, Madison or Milwaukee, you're in the "Red" lands. And no, that isn't a Native American joke because we're all dead (being half Native American and half White is strange. Couple that with growing up Catholic and it's amazing I don't hate myself more. I hate myself a lot, don't get me wrong, but not half-white-half-injun-raised-Catholic-level hate myself). I'll put it this way, if you live in Oregon and don't own a gun, you probably live in Portland. But, the larger point, again, is that things are so fucked that disavowing our own "elected" (not going to get into my thoughts on that here, but all I'll say is that I'm not certain voting is on the up and up. Don't worry, I just got refitted for my new tin foil hat...) President is a very nonchalant, normal thing these days. I could see our country moving farther and farther towards their respective sides, but this is still shocking somehow. Maybe it's liberals being sore losers (Hipsters especially hate the concept of "winning and losing") but this seems like something more. And, unfortunately for all of us, we have exactly the wrong President to reunite the two extremes. He will only make it worse; much, much worse. It's sad and depressing that (some, well, a big chunk, but not all) humans in America have somehow lost what makes us "humans" and not just another animal: empathy, understanding and logic...
I remember when I was young and in school, we had to write papers on a given topic. I don't remember what my topic was, but the instructions were clear: write your thesis, research it thoroughly, THEN research the opposite so you can understand why people would think that and see how your opinion fits into those two opposing thoughts. That was also the basis of high school debates as well. If you can understand the opposition then you can start to actually win over/convince those on the other side, as well as reinforce your opinion. If you only knew and argued strictly from your point-of-view, you would only strengthen those already there and never win over anyone else. Well, if this election proved one thing, it was that Horicon, WI had a decent school system, apparently. The other part of my desire to understand things is very Aspergian. Being unable to understand the emotional aspect of things, I love to deep-dive into why people think, act, behave, decide, etc. a certain way. I have a very different understanding of people than most because of my "limitations." But, that has served me well over the years in understanding that each conflict has two sides, and both are probably flawed in some way and the answer is rarely one or the other. It's usually neither, in fact. But, here we are. I try to avoid thinking of these things daily but sometimes I can't. And, yesterday, while getting my hair cut/trying not to have a panic attack the reality/gravity of this situation struck me, rough. I'll go on and do what I have to to get through (thinking bourbon will help). Remember, nothing lasts forever and there are plenty of noble pursuits to keep yourself busy with for the foreseeable future. To that point, I have two albums coming out! Shit, why am I ranting about this? I have work to do. Rock N' Roll isn't going to Make itself Great Again on its' own...
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