Subtle Glow

I recently got a haircut and took off about 1/3 of my total hair lenth. It still hangs just below my shoulder line, but it was a lot of hair (and weight) taken off.

Two days ago, on my way home from work, I broke down in tears because of it. Typically, when I change hairstyles it takes about a week for my hair to chill the fuck out so I can get a grip on how to do it. The first couple days are a little shaky, but after that things tend to fall into place.

I spent a week of trying really REALLY hard to figure it out. As in spending, oh I don’t know, maybe about an hour or so in the morning mostly under a hot as hell blow dryer in my hot as hell room that never seems to get any cool air circulating (and why is it that no matter where I live, my room is always hotter than the rest of the house? Is it me? WTF?). After the torture of the blow dryer I would then spent another few minutes fussing with a curling iron to give it some sort of shape.

Once that was done, I waited for the sweat to dry and then put on my makeup and then tried to do another quick blast of cool air on the hair at my neckline that had since gotten a little damp and began to frizz. Again. Then left the house with hair that looked like a stupid brillo pad of square-ish proportions. No trace of the hour spent dicking with it. Every day, for a week, I left the house completely pissed off at my stupid ugly hair and my dumb ideas of wanting it to be different. Wonderful start to the day, no?

I left work that day feeling so ugly and stupid and like anyone who looked at me was thinking how terrible my hair was. Obviously that’s what they were thinking, because that’s what *I* was thinking.

I broke down and left the following tearful voicemail:
“I need your help. I can’t figure out my new hair. I have tried, and I’m sure you will know what to do, but I just - I can’t. Please call me?” I may have sniffled or sobbed a tiny bit, I don’t know.

She has been doing my hair for almost a decade now, and I have never had a haircut that made me cry - and her and I have gone to serious extremes with it. Never once have I needed it fixed. Never once have I cried. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I cried about my hair. Except the time when I was eight or nine and let my step-aunt who was reported to be a stylist, but as I sadly found out she was less of a stylist and maybe more of an alcoholic. Maybe Way more.

In case you didn’t learn that the same way I did in that situation, I’ll just share the knowledge gained from my little experience. If you have a sort-of relative who will give you a haircut at the dinner table, while she chats on the phone and sips on gad knows what, randomly snipping and walking around your head and sipping her drink and snipping some more, and if she does all that and especially if it is for more than an hour or maybe even two: YOU ARE IN SERIOUS SHIT WITH YOUR HAIR. For months. There is just no coming back from it.

Thankfully, that was something that happened a long time ago and not the reason I cried about it just a few days ago.

Thankfully, my stylist is totally awesome and has seen me through many hairstyles. She has patiently steered me away from the Very Wrong Bad Bad Ideas for my hair. She knows that my radical ideas are merely my displeasure at my current hair, which more often than not can be solved by a simple trim or a slight change of shape.

I went in, and showed her the hair. I liked the general implication of the cut - you know, the way it would look if it would just not do this one thing. She knew exactly what I meant, and we talked about just cutting out that bit on the ends and then she went to work.

I would have made out with her when she was done. Would have, but you know it was getting late and she needed to close up her shop and go home and I, well, I was too busy cooing at my hair. It’s all better! It’s bouncy and swingy and has a cute little shape to it, with the little flip at the bottom just like what I was trying to go for from the start.

I think my first mistake was bringing in a picture of something like what I wanted. I didn’t need it to be exactly that way, but it was a cut that I liked and a general idea of what I was going for.

In the end, that’s exactly what I got. Maybe a slightly shorter version but I’m not scared of losing a little length for the sake of a GOOD cut that WORKS. Also I might have stayed up until wee hours of the morning looking at different makeup and hairstyle ideas because I was so excited about it, although not so much excited as just couldn’t freaking fall asleep last night for whatever reason.

I know, this is worthless without pictures. Soon, maybe.

Last night the stack of paperwork finally came home - the inch of paperwork I was expecting from the first day. All the usual stuff, filled out over and over again.

One item of note for Kiddo is the music program offered to the fourth and fifth graders. He wants to learn to play the viola.

My initial reaction is not very enthused about the idea. Mostly because I have concerns about how responsible kiddo can be with a musical instrument at this point. We would definitely try to rent an instrument for him, but I really don’t want that to turn in to buying a broken or damaged or “lost” instrument a couple months from now.

I’m trying to figure out that delicate balance between giving him more responsibility but not too much so that it’s impossible for him to handle it. I also don’t want to have to shoulder the financial burden for him being irresponsible. For example - this morning he cut a hole in his new shirt while trying to cut the tag out of the back collar. Certain tags drive him crazy. I know this and I have told him to let me know when that happens so I can do the cutting. To avoid making a hole.

Things like that make me think maybe he’s not ready for the responsibility of an expensive musical instrument.

That doesn’t even get in to those brutal beginning months where it’s all nails and chalkboard while he scratches out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Nothing like hearing umpteen renditions of the alphabet song. At least with piano we can get an electric version to practice on - with headphones!

I even tried to steer him toward the bass, but he is intimidated by the size and bulk. It’s actually a very practical thought - when I imagine him trying to cart a huge bass to and from school and his dad’s house, I can see where that could be trouble.

On the positive side, I think it would be awesome for him to learn to read music, and to play an instrument. I would almost rather get him an acoustic guitar and take private lessons, or as I mentioned earlier, piano lessons or something. The discipline to practice as well as the ability to read and play music would all be definite positives. I just think that particular group of stringed instruments is not the right way to go for him/us.

I told him I would talk to his dad about it - maybe he has a different perspective. I’d like to at least offer Kiddo an alternative if we ultimately decide not to go with the school music program. We’ll see.

I have decided that the reason I don’t write here regularly is because I don’t have a purpose for this blog.

Please note: not having a purpose <> need to define blog purpose. I make no such promises.

There is no reason for me to write here, there is no reason for me not to write here. I used to write about whatever came to mind. Things that I found hilarious or troubling, whichever seemed to be the more compelling that day.

Then, for a while, it seemed like all I wanted to write about was the Very Serious Sources of Drama and Strife. Or, Work. Drama and Strife can make for compelling readying, but you know at some point I have to realize I’m not 14 and “woe is my life of torment and torture” doesn’t play well on an all day, every day cycle of repeat spins. Like a song on repeat, or if you’re me, also a reminder of how much laundry I need to do. Plus, it’s stuff I think but don’t want to say here where people I know will read can see it, and then know it. In the past when I got to that point - I started a new blog! HA.

So, welcome to my Blog of Drivel, formerly blog of stale entry, formerly blog of other various locations and URLs.

First item: Back to School!

Initial thoughts:I am so proud - I have a fourth grader now.

Followed by: Holy fuck - I have a fourth grader now.

Also, the pile of paperwork that came home from the first day was basically three sheets of paper. One of them was complete with only five bold bullet points for the ‘class contract,’ which included things like Honesty, Integrity, Character, Respect… tra la la!! I think I am a little big giddy with this teacher already, and it’s only been a day. It’s so much more easy to be receptive to those types of class rules and guidelines, instead of list of “NO ______ allowed” types of regulations. In fact, the only one like that was “No Put Downs” and I figure if you’re going to highlight a definite “Don’t” then that is the one to highlight.

Second item: Single and Smarmy!

Someone recently asked me how it is that I’m single. Sometimes the answer is a struggle to me, but for some reason so many things just seemed to click together and my response was almost without any hesitation:

“I don’t have a lot of patience for the whole ‘gettting to know’ people. It takes such effort, and because I’m not comfortable with it, I get frustrated with tempering the effort with the minimal rewards - at least at first. I’m sure if I tried, I wouldn’t be, but I don’t try so… ?”

Sure, the same could be said for why I don’t exercise regularly, but whatever.

Kiddo and I applied for our passports yesterday.  To tell the truth, I am pretty excited for it to get here.  Then all that stands between me and traveling to far off places I have never been is planning.  I like that.
Our first trip (with or without the passports, actually, but it would be fun to have them anyway) is a cruise this November.  It was my mom’s idea - she sent the link to all the family members and asked if we wanted to do something different, and go on this cruise together.  It’s around Thanksgiving, so she thought we could do that instead of getting together on the big turkey day.  Sure, sounds good, so I put down the deposit and put the rest of the money aside since it’s not due until next month.
I sent an email to her a few days ago, asking if they were planning on canceling and getting the deposit back, or if they were going to go ahead and book it. We are going, whether they go or not.  It would be fun if they were there but since we have already planned for it, I don’t see why we shouldn’t go anyway.  I mentioned the email to my brother and he looked at me funny.  He asked me, “Why wouldn’t she book it?  She put the whole thing together.  Is she flaky like that?  To just put the whole idea together and get everyone to go and then, NOT go?”

Well, it sounds bad when you say it like that.  But, truthfully speaking, yes.  Yes she is “flaky” like that.
The next morning I got an email back from her saying that it was interesting that I had asked, because they were just talking about it the same night I sent the email.  (Hello, can you say ‘intuition?’)  She wrote that she was waiting until the rest of the money was due before she did anything, but pretty much - they have decided not to go.
Do you ever find yourself in a situation where you almost wished you were wrong about someone?  Yeah, that’s a recurring theme for me these days and I will not miss it when it stops, that’s for sure. I am a little disappointed but not too much, because honestly I am not very surprised.
Poor me - now I will have to try to make up for all the fun she will miss out on while I am there!

I have always had a dependence on an alarm to wake me up in the morning. Sure, there were rare mornings where I turned the alarm off before I was conscious enough to realize it. Generally, the alarm goes off, I hit snooze six times or so once or twice and then drag myself into the shower.

It seems to be more and more common that I hit snooze enough times that the alarm actually resets itself for the next day, and there I am, still snuggled in to bed.

What happened to the days where I would get up and get going and make it in to the office (coffee in hand!) by 7am?