My sister is growing her hair, after twenty or so years of short like me (but never as short as the stubble I'm wearing right now). That's an interesting journey.
I think my mother might think I hate my blackness or my femininity because I refuse to have hair, but I don't even really hate hair--I hate having a variable on my head, though. I hate the potential for bedhead, the requirement for combing and washing, almost even the option for styling. If I could have a hairstyle that never impacted my life, I'd wear it. I mean, it could impact my looks, I just wouldn't have to do anything about it.
Because that's what I hate.
I do not understand the premise of crying before a haircut, and my response to my last bad haircut was "well, just take most of it off, then" and that's what presaged what I have now (with a detour to hair long enough to hold blonde).
I just got a bunch of art books I promised myself after the lecture, and I want to stop work and DRAW.
Also because this morning was spent fighting with my boss about something that it turns out many people agree with me on, so I backed down as long as I was on the record with the opinion that I thought the decision increased project risk.
Jobs that don't involve saving people or animals or putting out actual fires or curing cancer should not give me an ulcer. Right?
At five o'clock, I'm pouring myself some whiskey and then I'm going to lie down on the bed and possibly weep.
Ugh Amy, no one's work should make them feel that way.
::strokes Amy's hair uncreepily::
::tries to compose a 'nice' picture for her::
The department head thought it would be possible for all of the editors to update three news sites apiece via AP (publishing each story takes roughly 5 or 6 minutes if there are no glitches) and we're supposed to publish 6 or 7 to each site, AND to write 10 500-word lifestyle articles. Off the top of our heads.
And that doesn't include the actual editing we're responsible for.
But think of all the experience you're getting!
In not killing people with your brain, I mean...
In other news, Patton Oswalt provokes: [link] I learnt in an email my sister sent from the bathroom and which we just talked about through the closed door.
ita,
you don't need to make excuses. I have a lot of hair and it is a PITA.
But think of all the experience you're getting!
In not killing people with your brain, I mean...
If I could learn to accomplish that, I'd be a lot happier.
It's 5:01!
Someone looked at our house in Washington!
This may not sound very exciting, but it's the closest we've been to actually selling it in a while.
I could cry over my hair, and I'm not even changing hair styles. I love my hair, but I don't like at all how it looks now. It's thinned so much in the front, for reasons unknown, that it makes me want to cry when I look at myself. I don't know what to do about that; wearing bangs with curly hair is deeply problematic. I got it dyed "professionally" and even though the stylist and I discussed how my dry hair would just soak up the dye, my desired dark brown came out black. Goth black. Which is great if you WANT Goth black, not so much if you don't. There's nothing to do about too-black hair except cut it off and grow it out and cut it off, until the black is gone. And what do I do with my salt-and-pepper roots until then? I keep thinking about cutting it really really short and wearing a wig until it all grows out gray, and then just going with the gray. What's wrong with gray, anyway? And it's SO dry and frizzy, and there's not enough hot oil treatment in the world to fix it. I don't know.
