Ramble: Schlub EditionToday was a minor milestone in my career and a bit of a silly one: I picked up my first set of headshots. It is neat because now I actually have a headshot. It is a tangible thing on heavy-duty 8x10 paper. My mother can hang it on her office door. And she will. It will, in some way, feel like I am making progress to her, just in the same way it feels like making progress to me. This is despite the fact that both of us know that with a digital image and $100, anyone can get a headshot done.
And so the definition of progress is internal: I felt that I was ready to get a headshot. Worthy. In need. Able to take advantage of their presence. The headshot, then, is the manifestation of my own sense of progress. With that, Silly Thing becomes Good Thing.
Of course it isn’t exactly me. A little touching up was necessary because I am flawed and even a good photograph has some unavoidable imperfections. The shine on my nose and cheeks and two stray hairs: gone. The refraction from my glasses: corrected. The bump on the end of my nose: erased. It is still me, but a ‘better’ me. It is still far enough from perfect that it looks like no work may have been done at all. A touch dishonest, but a far cry from the photoshop crimes and out-of-date pictures that decorate the profiles of match.com.
Don’t worry, Mom. It’s me in the picture. You remember the flaws, right?
