Jobs (1955-2011)

Who was given up for adoption but whose new parents raised him so well that he could intern for Hewlett-Packard as a high schooler.

Who dropped out of college but was worth 100 million by age 25.

Who lived in a garage designing a computer that would someday be useful in every room of the house.

Who made geekiness cool. Who almost salvaged the mock turtleneck look.

Who upended the personal tech industry. And the music industry. And the movie industry. And the cell phone industry.

Whose ideas, to the end, multiplied faster than the cancer inside him.

Public Property: My Eyebrows

Last week, again, a hair stylist took the liberty of trimming my eyebrows and ear hair without asking.  Should I feel a little violated?  What if I want me overambitious ear hair to demonstrate my maturity?  What if I want my eyebrows to mimic Rowan Williams’?

I’m probably just depressed over middle age cosmetic issues, but the whole thing makes me wonder why my hair stylists – who so happen to be women – feel the freedom to trim hair other than that on my scalp.  Were a stylist to do the same thing to a woman, a considerable tussle would ensue, maybe a law suit.  Women do these things themselves, after all.  Since appearance matters so much to others, women  get used to making decisions about every part of their body.  That is their burden and pride, so how dare someone else make that decision for them.

Since we men don’t own our own bodies so much as to care enough about cosmetic details, women take up a stewardship role.  At least in the cosmetic sense, male bodies belong to women.  Now, how is the opposite true in our society?