Bryce Moore's Blog, page 230

Olympic Thoughts on Practice, Talent, and Picking Apart Perfection

I’m a self-confessed Olympics junkie. For those two weeks of sporting events, I follow the stories really closely, checking out events across all the disciplines, reading up on the different story lines. You name it. And so I’ve been watching a lot of winter sports the past few days, and as I’ve been watching it all unfold, a few thoughts have come to me that I wanted to get down on paper.

First up, the difference between practice and talent. I was kicked back (nursing a thrown out back) watching speed skating, and it occurred to me: these athletes were giving it their all. 100% of their ability, practice, and hard work–it was all getting left out on the ice for the world to see. And for all but three of them, their all just wasn’t enough. Worse yet, for most of them, the announcers knew it wasn’t enough the second the skater came out to line up at the starting line.

Some skaters were fast enough to contend for a medal, but most just weren’t–barring a huge series of bizarre screw ups.

My first response to that thought was to feel sad for the skaters. They could try as hard as they liked for as long as they liked, but they were never going to cut it. As much as we love to hear about underdogs winning it all, the whole reason those stories are memorable is because they almost always don’t (win it all, that is). But then again, that’s life. There’s a certain level of achievement we can obtain in any skill set, and that level is a combination of natural talent and the time you put into honing that talent. But in the end, there’s a wall you  just can’t get around, and that wall is the limit of your own ability.

It was kind of a brutal thought, but like I said–my back was hurting.

However, it gets better. Because I kept watching, and the amazing thing to me was the fact that despite everyone knowing from the beginning about how well each athlete could do, all the athletes showed up to compete anyway. I mean, even the comparatively awful ones. (More on that thought in a moment.) People who knew they had no real chance to win were still there, giving it their best. Some of them were setting personal records. They were all competing for themselves and their country. And that’s kind of inspiring.

We always focus on the best and brightest, and that’s understandable. But in many ways it’s just as inspiring to see people coming to do their personal best. No matter how I try to type that, it comes out wrong–but hopefully you get the main sentiment.

My second thought came while I was watching figure skating. It’s a bit easier to describe. The fam and I were watching these women do amazing, incredible things on the ice. Things I could never in a million years hope to be able to do, and yet the commentators were there to point out everything those women were doing wrong. They could put it all into slow motion and look at misplaced feet and wrong skate edges, and suddenly the awesome became the so-so.

Because we’re trained to look for the best–to praise the winner and ignore the losers–how often do we end up being unable to just appreciate the beauty of the competition? The fact of the matter is that whatever you do, you’re not going to be perfect. And somehow, watching those amazing skaters get picked apart made me feel better about myself. Not because someone else was getting torn down, but because I realized that perfection is pretty  much unobtainable. If these amazing performances could still get picked apart, then maybe I should go a bit easier on myself. Yes, there are rough edges I can find–but there are always going to be rough edges. You work on what you can, and just keep doing your best.

No clue why I’m having deep thoughts while watching the Olympics. I guess I should just taken ‘em where I can get ‘em.

It’s Olympic Time!

No real time for me today, since I’m traipsing off to Bangor for a cataloging meeting (the thrilling life of a librarian!), however I wanted to give a shout out to the Olympics. I love this time, though it’s one of the few times I really regret not having cable. (And not living in a place where I can get easy antenna reception. So I’m stuck jury rigging an Olympic schedule together as best I can.

That said, you couldn’t pay me enough money to go to Sochi to see it in person. It sounds like it’s an absolute zoo over there right now, and I have zero confidence that the games will run smoothly. I lives in Utah for the Salt Lake Olympics, and I have a good idea of the amount of work it takes to pull off a successful games. I also lived in a place where communism reigned supreme for forty years, and I have a good idea how little prepared Sochi likely is. Add to that terror threats, and I’ll stay home, thank you very much.

I have thought it interesting to see the Russian responses to the Western news outlets’ reporting, claiming it’s biased, etc. I think that, rather, it’s the first *unbiased* reporting some of those people have had to deal with.

Anyway. Off I go to Bangor. Go USA, Slovakia, and Germany!!

Who are you rooting for?

Revisiting Harold and Maude

Senior year of high school, I was in AP English. It was an infamous course, taught by a very popular teacher. I had a blast taking it at the time, and still look back on the course fondly. It’s likely one of the main reasons I majored in English in college, and that’s accounted for a lot of other things in my life.

We studied all sorts of works, from Hamlet to Beowulf to modern works. And then there was Harold and Maude. It’s a film about a young man crying out for attention, and the eighty year old woman who teaches him how to deal with life. We watched it in class–I can no longer remember why. Was it part of a unit for a different book? Did we study it for a long period of time? All that is gone from my memory, but I still remembered the movie.

When Denisa and I were looking for something to watch last night, I decided to give it another shot. “Is it any good?” Denisa asked me before we started it.

I shrugged. “I remember disliking it and liking it at the same time.” Which sounds bizarre, but is true. I hadn’t seen the movie since I was 17, but it’s stuck with me since then. Now that I’m older and a bit wiser (theoretically), I wanted to give it another shot and see what I thought of it.

It’s still a bizarre movie. Much more artsy than mainstream, though still mainstream in many ways. The soundtrack is as good as I remembered it being (Cat Stevens all the way!), and it was much funnier–and disturbing–than I remembered it being.

Also, Harold still ends up sleeping with Maude. Mustn’t forget that, although how could I, when the last time I watched it was with a classroom full of 17 year olds?

It’s a movie that wants to mean something. It has to mean something, doesn’t it? Did I enjoy the rewatch? More or less. I was surprised both by how much I remembered and by the fact that I had watched this movie–this movie–senior year of public school. How would I feel if my kids watched it today? I’m not honestly sure. I have nothing against the subject or the way it’s handled, but I’ll admit the elaborate suicides were more than a little disturbing. Harold continually contrives death scenes to surprise his mother with, and they’re quite graphic, from sliced open arms to setting himself on fire.

The scene where he takes a gun, slowly loads it, then shoots himself in the head? That’s what made me most uncomfortable. But then again, this movie came out long before the surge in youth violence. Or is it that I saw the movie before I was fully aware of how much youth violence and suicide is out there? I’m not sure. I know that when I watched it as a teen, the scene didn’t freak me out at all. As a father, it was a much different response.

At any rate, it was interesting to revisit it. I’d give the movie  an 8 out of 10 today. Very well executed, and certainly memorable.

Now if I could only remember why we were watching it in English class to begin with. I can’t help but feel like it was part of an agenda my teacher at the time had. The movie expresses a lot of what she seemed to value highly, and I wonder if she wanted us to watch it in hopes that we would value it highly, too. Any of my classmates care to clue me in?

Adventures in Jury Duty

The time had come. My number had been called. I’d heard about jury duty over the years, but I’d never been actually drawn as a participant. That changed a few weeks ago, when I got a letter in the mail informing me I needed to report for jury duty. The big day? Yesterday. So I traipsed into court yesterday morning, armed with a book and a good general demeanor, uncertain of exactly what was in store for me.

People asked me ahead of time what I thought. My standard answer? “As long as it’s not some child sex abuse case or something, I think it’ll be interesting to be on a jury.”

The first jury that was being called? For a child sex abuse case.

Ugh. My stomach sunk. I had jinxed myself.

For those of you who haven’t done jury duty (or at least, jury duty in Maine), allow me to inform you of the joy that awaits. You and 125 or so of your peers are called into the courtroom. It looks about how you’d think it would look for a rural courthouse. All it’s missing is Matlock or Perry Mason, but we can’t all be perfect. You’re pick a seat, and you settle in to wait. They show you a movie about the jury process, and then you wait some more. The judge comes in and explains most of what was in the movie, and then in come the lawyers and the defendant.

The judge explains what the general case is–what the charges are–in broad strokes. She then goes through a list of all the people who are going to be involved in the trial. The lawyers, witnesses, defendant. And for each of them, she asks if anyone in the jury pool knows the person in question. If so, how (personally or professionally). Also, would that relationship bias your ability to make what should be an unbiased decision on the facts presented.

This can take a lot of time to go through.

Oh–and you’re asked if you know anyone else in the pool or are related to anyone else in the pool.

Once that’s all done, the lawyers and judge confer. In this particular case, we had to fill out questionnaires about our history of sexual abuse or domestic violence–again, to see if we would be biased for or against a particular case. They then would call up particular potential jurors and ask some more specific questions.

I knew no one, worked with no one, and was never asked a specific question.

I got a lot of reading done.

Then comes the terrifying part: drawing the numbers of the jurors. I’d somehow thought there’d be specific “We want juror #2″ requests from the defense or prosecution. I was wrong. They draw about 20-30 numbers, and then go through them in order (at sidebar) to see who neither side has a problem with. Then the ones who were selected are told, and they’re informed when to report for trial.

I was very very very pleased to not be picked for that particular trial. I wasn’t picked for any trial, actually. And since the whole process to get two juries seated took the whole day, I’m kind of relieved I don’t have to go to trial at all. Though it *would* be interesting to actually see a trial first person.

In any case, I’m glad to have done it once, and also glad that I finally finished reading The Shining. I’m officially swearing off horror books for the rest of the winter–until I don’t have to go out to the woodshed at night anymore. Because yikes!

Downton 4.5 Review: In Which I Discover What Sort of Downton Fan I Am

A funny thing happened to me last night. I was watching Downton with Denisa, and a character came on screen. I’ve already forgotten his name–he’s the guy with the jerk who’s going around inspecting British houses. (The jerk’s totally going to end up with Mary. Just sayin’) Anyway, there he is, and Denisa says, “That’s the man who invited the Turk over.”

I stared at her. It isn’t every day that your wife starts spouting gibberish. I was worried she’d hit her head or something, but she continued. “Remember? Back in the first season? When Mary slept with the Turkish man? This is the man who brought him to the house in the first place.”

Evelyn Napier–that’s the guy.

I told her she was making things up. Then I did a Google search.

She was right.

My wife. The one who says epic fantasy is way beyond her, because she can’t keep track of all the different characters. She heard this guy’s name and immediately connected it with a character who’d popped up for all of one episode more than THREE YEARS AGO. And no, we haven’t watched that episode since. She knew right away who he was.

I was floored. And it was at that moment that I realized I’m just not that big of a fan of this show. To me, I think I’ll always pretend the show had two seasons. The first and the third–and that it ended five minutes before the third season actually ended. Just cut to black, like the Sopranos.

But I’ll continue to watch it, because Denisa loves it, and I’m that sort of husband.

This week’s episode? Diverting enough, I suppose. But my heart’s no longer in it. Edith’s pregnant? Meh. Rose is making out with the bandleader? Shrug. Mary’s got another suitor? Double shrug.

The thrill is gone, my friends. Even Violet vs Isobel failed to get a real rise out of me. It all seems to be going through its paces. Which is a shame. The set design is still great. The scenery’s beautiful, but the show itself sailed off on a giant shark back during Anna’s rape, and it just hasn’t been the same since.

I know some of you love it still, and that’s great. You also know who Evelyn Napier is. I don’t.

I’m at peace with that.

And that’s all I have time for today, because I’ve got to get back to jury duty. (A full report on that tomorrow!)

Thanks for reading!

Discussing Religion on the Internet

I was asked by my friend Dan Nosheny to write a guest post for his blog today. He gave me the topic: ““How to talk about religion in a way that is both non-obnoxious but also makes people listen.”

This sounded like something I could do. Challenge accepted! I’m including the first bit of my post here to whet your appetite, and then linking over to his blog for you to see the rest of it. Comments encouraged anywhere, though I think it’d be spiffy if they were at his site, not mine. (Sort of keeps with the “guest blog” thing.) I was fairly pleased with how it turned out. Now to see what his audience of blood thirsty atheists think about it.

THE WELL-TEMPERED EVANGELIST

Confession: this is the second version of this article that I’m writing. The first one was an immediate response I started as soon as I read Dan’s original piece. It was an article where I defended my beliefs and explained why I believe what I believe. I didn’t send that article to Dan. In fact, I didn’t even finish it–for a number of reasons, the main one being that I think it missed the point of Dan’s post. He didn’t write it as an assault on religion, although his views definitely colored it. Rather, he wrote it to explain how he can believe one thing (firmly enough to participate in a rally about it) and yet at the same time be accepting of other people’s very contradicting ideas.

It also helped that I had the chance to talk about belief extensively in the Facebook comments section of his post. (Honestly–sometimes I wonder why we even have comments sections on blogs. Everyone wants to do the talking on Facebook.) By the end of that discussion, I felt like I’d come to a good place as far as my reaction to the piece went, and I could move on to the real question Dan had asked me:

After some discussion with Dan, we decided the exact topic was “How to talk about religion in a way that is both non-obnoxious but also makes people listen.”

More or less.

Reading over Dan’s remarks, I was surprised by how much Mormons and atheists have in common. Growing up in a very non-Mormon area, there were tons of times when my beliefs felt marginalized. For example, I remember the time in eighth grade social studies when my teacher (whose name has been lost to the sands of time) went on and on about how silly Mormons were. In the middle of class. I am not making this up. He ended his mini-tirade saying, “I hope I don’t have any Mormons in *this* class.”

READ THE REST HERE

In Which My Son Knocks Out His Permanent Front Tooth

Life never ceases to surprise me. You might think you know what’s going to happen on a particular day, and most of the time, you’re right. But sometimes . . . sometimes, my friends, you’re very wrong.

Denisa took TRC and DC ice skating yesterday. They’ve been wanting to go for quite some time, and she decided yesterday was it. My kids can both skate. They’ve been skating quite a few times before. So this was No Big Deal. They left at 4:15, and I was digging in to watch MC for the late afternoon.

45 minutes later, they were back. I watched the car pull in, surprised. The rink must have been closed or something, I thought. Poor guys. And then TRC walked in. And this is what I saw, minus the brave smile:

I was stunned, I’ll admit it. I stared at him, my mind trying to figure out where in the world his tooth went. He was distraught, of course–I had to get the story from Denisa. They’d been skating for 15 minutes or so when he slipped and fell face first on the ice. The tooth just snapped right off.

It’s easier to look back on the experience a day later, of course–but at the time, I was far from rational. My son had been seriously injured, and–after making sure he wasn’t still in danger or anything–I was just so angry. I know that sounds silly. Who would I be angry with? Denisa? For having somehow prevented him from slipping? My son for slipping in the first place? But I was furious. I’ve never really felt like that. In general, I’m a person who likes to think things through ahead of time. I don’t particularly like surprises, and I often don’t do well with them–especially surprises that force me to think on my feet. That said, I also consider myself a person who thinks well on his feet. In other words, I can do it well, but I really don’t like having to do it.

In any case, I was angry, but I also realized I was angry for no identifiable reason, and so it would be better if I withdrew from the situation for a bit to gather my thoughts. At that point, I fell back on instinct: I started researching the problem. And thankfully as soon as I did that, my mind snapped back with it. Call the dentist, silly. I asked Denisa to give our dentist a call on the off chance he was still in the office. In the meantime, I got on Facebook and contacted an old BYU library friend I knew had subsequently become a dentist (because we can’t all be librarians).

He gave me his phone number, and I talked to him for about fifteen minutes about the problem. (Seriously, Spenser–thank you so much. That conversation helped me a ton.) I was a much better informed Bryce after it, able to start making rational decisions again. Denisa was able to reach our dentist, and he even stopped by the house on his way home to look at the problem in person. (If anyone needs a suggestion for a local dentist, can I give a huge shout out to Milad Bozorgnia? He’s been our dentist here since we moved to Maine, and he’s both a great dentist and a wonderful human being.) Once I had information and a prognosis, the immediate knee-jerk anger subsided. (I’m not going to mock anyone who acts irrationally after shocks to the system, though. I know what it feels like firsthand, now.)

Long story short (too late!), TRC is going back to the dentist’s today. The prognosis looks as follows: temporary cap today, followed by a root canal early next week. Once the root canal is done, there’ll be a pin put in place and a semi-permanent crown attached (made out of composite, not normal crown material). Once TRC is older (17+, a real crown will be put on.)

In retrospect, I was also surprised at how quickly we adjust to the new normal. An hour after TRC’s accident, we had a plan in place, he was lying comfortably  on the couch watching Netflix, and all was well with the world. (Although I was crunching numbers to try and figure out how much that slip is going to affect my pocketbook. My current calculation is $750 or so right now, with another $1000 to come when he’s 17. That’s half what it would be without insurance. I’m hoping it turns out to be less, but I prefer to plan for the worst. Hey–he likely won’t need an implant, at least. That would have been thousands of dollars on top of everything else.)

So there you have it. My yesterday’s adventure. TRC gave me permission to post his pic and his story to ze blog. I’m sure he’d appreciate any well wishes any of you have for him. He’s been handling it like a champ. Very proud of my boy today. He even wanted to play some Magic the Gathering later in the evening. I think he’ll be fine, though he doesn’t have any real concept of “root canal” just yet. He will after next week.

Sigh.

I’ll keep you updated.

Living in the Future

Every now and then I take a look around me and realize I’m living in the future. The crazy things is, the future doesn’t just jump out and surprise you. It creeps up on you, even when it’s coming fast. I remember when I was little, seeing things like video phones in sci fi movies and thinking how cool they would be. Of course, now that we have Skype and similar services all over the place, the cool factor wears off. It’s just normal. Tiny tablet computers that can do all sorts of wonderful things? Commonplace.

It sometimes takes big changes for me to have those momentary “The future is now!” breakthroughs. Changes like Google Glass now being offered in multiple styles and for prescription lenses. I mean, just check out that article. It talks about the difficulties our society is going to face as Google Glass and similar technologies become more commonplace. There’s a certain air of inevitability about all this. I mean, look at how long it took cell phones to go from huge bricks to small devices. And that was with 90s technology. These days, the advances are far faster. Five years from now, I would be surprised if Google Glass-like devices weren’t commonplace.

The first iPad came out in April 2010. Think about that for a minute. Think about the prevalence of iPads and tablets today, and then consider that when they released the iPad–less than 4 years ago–plenty of people said it was going to flop. That there was no need for these tablet computers. In four years, something went from “why would we need this?” to “Everyone’s got one.”

Another case in point: the stem cell research breakthrough that just happened. Basically, scientists have discovered that they can make damaged cells in baby mice magically turn back into stem cells. If this holds true for humans, then stem cells could be created without the need for harvesting embryos. When I read articles like that, I’m reminded how little science really knows about what goes on in the world and how everything really works. We can try as hard as we want to pretend we’ve got it all down, but then something like this comes along and reminds us we’re pretty clueless.

Note: this isn’t an anti-science rant. I love science. This is a “Hot dog! The world is a pretty amazing place” observation.

Anyway, back to my original point. We’re living in the future, and as fast as we can picture up what the future’s going to bring, it seems like it’s getting to the point where it’s coming even faster. Maybe I ought to go get a cane and start yelling for the future to get off my lawn . . .

How to Create Likable Characters

So I’ve started the first draft of my next book–title unknown at the moment–and I’m deep in the throes of trying to figure out what’s going on. I forget how hard beginnings can be for me. (Then again, I think every stage of writing can be difficult in its own way. Usually the one I like to complain the most about is the one that I’m working on at the moment.) The problem I face with beginnings is that I just don’t have a complete read on the main point of view characters at first. It’s like getting to know someone you’re going to be stuck with for a good long time, except in this case if that person has anything that really bugs you too much, you can just change their character or fire them and refill the position.

Mwa ha ha! The sheer power of being an Author!

I’m trying out two point of view characters for this book, something I haven’t done since the third book I wrote (and that was the only time I’ve ever tried it). It took me a few weeks, but I believe I more or less have the identities for the main characters set in place enough to start writing. I’ve got the initial chapters done for both characters, so I should be off to the races, right?

Not so much, as I was reminded of last night when my writing group had its first go at the new material. (NOTE: I realize that a lot of writers wait until they have their entire book written before they start workshopping it. I am not one of those writers. I believe one of my strengths lies in revision–in adapting what I’m writing to the whims of an audience. One of my big weaknesses is the inability to really tell what’s going on in a book of mine until someone else reads it. I completely stink at self editing, and I know it. So why in the world would I want to write an entire novel, think it’s working, and then discover once it’s all in place that a ton of it is complete garbage? I’d rather get that input early on in the process so I can smooth out rough edges as I go.)

The current first chapter of the book is told from the girl’s point of view. In my mind, she’s a snarky underdog fighting against the odds. She’s good at heart, but has a crusty exterior she throws up to protect herself. I think people will really like her and root for her, and I think she’ll be a lot of fun to write. So far so good, right?

I wanted to start right in with the action. She’s got a horrible father who’s pretty much a failure as a human being. Amoral. I’ve always found the concept of “you can’t choose your family” intriguing,. You can have some really stellar children saddled with some really awful parents–and vice versa. So I started the first chapter with the girl having a dramatic showdown with her father. The thought was that it would get my audience on her side right away, establishing the family dynamic and what she’s up against. Emotions were tense in the scene–it should have been great stuff.

Except my writing group strongly disliked it, and they were completely right.

You see, I’d forgotten some of the basics. At the beginning of the novel, everyone starts with a clean slate in the reader’s eyes. In this scene, the daughter was actually coming across as just as despicable as the father. Both of them were saying and doing awful things to each other, and so no one liked either of them. The closest I can come to describing it is the feeling you get when you turn on a sports game in the middle, and you’re unfamiliar with either team. You don’t know who to root for, and so you’re not committed at all to the outcome. Anything you see either team do on the field is going to sway your opinion, but both teams end up with an equal shot of being the one you want to win. (For me, I always end up going for the underdog–whoever seems to be behind at the moment.)

To actual fans of those teams, the lines are clear from the very beginning. They know who to root for, and that skews their entire game watching experience.

With a book, you need to remember to give people the chance to know who to root for–and why. Starting my novel in the middle of an argument with two hot headed people left my audience feeling like they didn’t like either side and wanted nothing to do with them. There wasn’t enough context given to clue readers in to what was really going on. This can be a book-breaking problem.

However, the longer I write, the more I begin to be convinced that some book-breaking problems are actually pretty simple to fix. (Book breaking *plots* can be trickier, but even they can be solved with judicious edits.) In this case, what I need to do is clear: clue readers in on who to root for, and make sure that character shows herself to be worthy of their support. There are a couple of avenues to take to do this (and I’m not going to spoil which one I’m choosing just yet, as I think some of my writing group will be reading this, and I’d like to have a fresh read on the revision). Here are the basic approaches off the top of my head:

If your character has a tendency to be brash or unlikable, make sure there’s someone else in the scene who’s significantly more unlikable. Your character is only as good or bad as the characters she’s surrounded by. Put Danny Ocean at the head of a charity, stealing money from the good-intentioned, and he could be a pretty despicable person. Put him at the end of a ragtag group of thieves stealing from an awful slimeball, and we all suddenly think he’s a stand up kind of guy.
Have your character do something noble or praiseworthy in-scene. If your character is awful, but she does something that indicates a better side, that helps a lot. You’ve got to up the noble action in direct proportion to the awfulness of the character, however. With this in mind, it’s always easier to not have your characters be ridiculously hard to like. However . . .
Make your main character funny. Humor goes a long way. At the very least, show us something to like about that character. Phil Connors at the beginning of Groundhog Day is a despicable human being, but he’s a funny despicable human being, and so we’re okay watching him–especially when bad things happen to him. The same holds true for Gru in Despicable Me. He gets away with being mean and awful at first for two reasons: he’s funny, and bad things are happening to him.
Don’t dwell on the unlikable. If one of the points of your story is that your character redeems herself, then have that redemption process start sooner rather than later. Give us an inkling of what’s coming. You don’t have to spoil the whole thing, but let your readers know you’re not going to leave them hanging. (And then be sure to follow through on that redemption. Unless this is an artsy book, but come on: who actually reads those?)
Give your character a history. When we deal in generalities, it’s easy to condemn and dislike people. This is easily seen online and in traffic–anywhere where people are anonymous. It’s easy to yell at the guy who cut you off or berate the idiot who’s misspelled defenses of Twilight just drive you up the wall. But it’s not nearly that easy when you know the person who cut you off is your grandma, or the Twilight lover is your niece. Once a character has a history, we can then begin to at least understand what they’re doing, even if we can’t condone it. Again, try not to make that history have to account for too much of present day awfulness. It’s a trick that can only go so far and for so long.

So there are some of the ideas and tools I usually use to balance things out. I’d be interested if any of you have any other tips or tricks you keep handy. I’m always open to learning a new approach or two. In the meantime, I’ve got to go back to my first chapter and have my main character save a puppy from getting shot in the head by her father. (Oh wait–I forgot I wasn’t going to spoil my fix. Great. Now I’ve got to come up with something else . . .)

In Which My Daughter Chops Her Hair and Donates It to Charity

DC has never had a real haircut. Her hair is absolutely gorgeous, and this is not just a proud father talking. It’s long and blonde and curly, and she’s always received tons of compliments on it. That said, it’s also been a source of trouble in the house. Those beautiful curly locks get tangles like you wouldn’t believe, and DC absolutely loathes getting it brushed–to the point that Denisa would only brush it once a week. Which of course means that when it gets brushed, it’s absolutely wild.

To combat that, she almost always has it in two long braids behind her. It still never did away with the tangles completely, but it helped. And remember, this is the hair that made me gouge my eye out with a penny. So it’s not like it’s all sunshine and roses. Over the years, we’ve talked to DC about getting it cut, but she never wanted to go for it.

Until she found out she could donate her hair so someone else could have it.

The girl’s nothing if not thoughtful, and she leaped at the opportunity to donate her hair. Of course, when you’re donating hair, it has to be a certain length–at least 12 inches has to go. That’s a lot of hair. DC didn’t balk–she went right through with it.

I wasn’t present for the hair chopping. I was at home holding down the fort with TRC and MC. But Denisa tells me it went smoothly, and that it was more difficult for her (Denisa) to see the hair go than it was for DC. I do know one thing–DC was through the roof excited when she got home. She was so happy to have it gone, and so pleased with the results. She’s been loving shaking her head and feeling how light it is.

When it came time to brush the hair, she was instinctively afraid. When it was over a minute or so later with no tangles at all, she couldn’t believe it. I think it’s safe to say she’s a big fan.

Will we keep it as short as it is? I doubt it. Denisa likes it longer, and I think DC will too after a while. But I also don’t think we’ll let it go as long as it got–not unless DC starts being the one to take care of it. I’ve only got so many eyeballs, after all.

In any case, I present to you the new DC: