Yesterday, chopped my own hair (again). It was getting long and needed a certain kind of layer. So, craft scissors plus cheap disposable razor blade and we’re off. Result? Excellent, best ever. Cutting your own hair seems like one of those things reserved for really punk rock anti establishment ladies, totally not something I’d out myself on in most circles. A number of ladies have super religious attachments, in my experience, to their salons and particular stylists and this blasphemy is better kept private. But, I’ve gone everywhere from the recommended temples to the discount beauty schools without ever finding a life changer.
To be fair, my hair is straight, there is a lot of it, and I wear it long-ish.
Salon Pros: head massage, nice smelling shampoo different from my own, pro blow dry, possibility someone will make you fancy tea and be nice to you (neither ensured), no work for me other than making an appointment and getting somewhere on time.
Cons: training does not equal aesthetic sense, costs, difficult to tell how it will wear everyday when everyday is not an extensive blow dry/straightener process, difficulty in speaking Stylist, having to travel somewhere, the internal debate about whether or not to wash and style before visiting the salon so as to assist the stylist in figuring out wtf to do with your hair.
Self Cut Tips:
-make use of a digital camera with a timer for a better view
-cut when brushed out and totally dry (probably a beauty school faux pas, whatevvvs)
-figure out ideal shapes via pictures, side profiles are esp. helpful for ideas
-think about: face shape, head shape, hair texture, hair volume
-cut with scissors first, soften with razor second
-be bold (not, like, crazy, though)*
*biggest mistake in earlier attempts at cutting – fear of cutting off too much resulting in undersized layers
This is not saying never again. I’m not anti-stylist. There are a lot of styles that are clearly Do Not Try This At Home. But I like my hair better the way I cut it myself right now. So why not?
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Already a lessening participant in the online social media sphere (six years later), admittedly today a series of pictures posted by someone living somewhere that was a dream to live when I was about ten made me realize how much my life actually looks like hers right here, right now. So, inspiration, to document more for archive purposes and enjoy what’s going on right now
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Adapting to a new board. Shortest ever, a find at LG’s family home. Tip: when learning to surf start dating someone in a surf-y family who allows you access to a hand-me-down quiver that equals expanding your repetoire with limited personal investment.
The venture yesterday was marred by a fin flash that could have been a lot of things. Today I read, in the local mag, about a three meter great white spotting last month right around the spot. Hello, Charlie. On the upside, the shark was apparently spotted on a day with a lot of action in the water and didn’t attempt to chow anyone (including some swimmers), so everyone was a winner. I miss my dolphins an hour up the road, though.
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Listening: Opus Orange – Crystal Clear (via wolves.co.za march playlist)
Filed under: jams
Tonight, Kiss the Sky. Brilliant script for the truth of its contents, lukewarm performances. Good arc.
Work today was just how it should be, on the best days. A thank you call. A well crafted piece. Vindication. A dull but welcome assignment translating into an effortless Friday. Well played, humps.
I’m listening to Africa reporting on Haiti, morning radio at night.
My mind wanders to how music feels there.
I listen to raw punk rock from my wasted youth to pump myself up on the foot commute, and quiet songs from my early twenties to wind everything down on the slow walk home.
You can hear music you can’t google. Artists you can’t find. Maybe you’ll hear it next week, maybe it will get big. But at this point where I’ve never invested less in pop culture, everything is new anyways, and harvested bleak music from romantic reality television moments and chain coffee shops works for novelty.
Happiness is being able to hear pop music in that fifteen year old way, driving in a car, hitting replay on the disc changer and turning the speakers so high it’s more thump than anything. Resonance.
It just sounds different. It moves. Or maybe it is moving because I’m able to be still, undistracted, without expectations contrary to the truth which got scraped out somewhere and I have collected in a secret spot which I tend to regularly. This secret spot is not something I worry about going out, rather it’s the greatest thing, it’s the thing propelling me forward and causing that coy undirected smile in the elevator.
I’m going to give this up and hear music again.
A little feverish. Sinus infection, a biannual affair, experimental salt water treatment process ongoing.
Out last night, random drinks, cruise over the bridge to find nothing on and $17 cover for bands I’ve never heard of who seem vaguely rockabilly which there’s not a lot of love for even if this floor is packed.
I don’t really have a scene in mind anymore that I want to be part of.
When I was fifteen I wanted my life to look something like Dazed and Confused crossed with the Smashing Pumpkin’s 1979 video with John Hughes moments interspersed. Achieved. When I left home, I wanted to have a college experience, all night parties and meeting new people. Achieved. Around the time I moved I also wanted to go to shows and see interesting bands at good venues. Done. Everything that happens comes around as part of an idea, and of course there are always unexpected parts of that idea leading to new ideas, but opportunity often makes itself available to a well prepared mind.
There’s no vision of what this time is supposed to be like, available, yet. On one side, there’s the sign up drop out model, involving babies, mortgages, and brunch. On the other side, there’s a dystopic late twenties model purveyed by sitcoms and the New York Times, generally involving witty pub banter and a designed-to-destruct quest for love and/or success. There’s probably also a version where casual college substance abuse turns into a full blown problem, potentially with some regrettable other behavior, but let’s take that off the table. A lot of these are well canvassed by St. Elmo’s Fire, one of my favorite largely Brat Pack movies in existence. It’s kind of the Breakfast Club for those who graduated and covers the above trajectories, plus.
The thought occurs as these words take shape that the objective here is something about broader horizons. Everything in the past was about broadening but now the point comes where the broadness requires something more. To live in a situation so challenging it forces change. The problem with the current situation is it is devoid of this change forcing challenge, novelty, breadth.
Productivity and growth, it seems, are not so related after all.
CLEAR! – Elephant Man Remix – Kardinal Offishall So incongruent.
Filed under: jams
It’s about a month until my birthday and suddenly the date is heavy. Pun about milestones excluded, because it’s not one.
We have this conversation about how my mattress is still on the floor.
If real furniture is this far off, what about the rest of life?
And I know this requires a plan.
Rodriguez – I Wonder
And this remixxxxx
Underthecurrent 