Tuesday, October 30, 2007

A Great Weekend!!!

(I have been behind in my blogging duties to myself so bear with me.)

Thursday Night (of last week): Made sure to leave work right at 5 pm to get over to FFCU on Bel Air Road. (Because that's the location that my coworker, Code Name: F. Sanchez used to work at and had given me a friendly connect by being able to drop her name there.) Once I got there, I nervously sat and waited for someone to call on me in the line. What about credit unions made me think of them as forbidden secret societies? As if the word "union" constituted that I must work at a place where I get a special secret coded name tattooed on my ass and a name badge that had access into government facilities. And then, one day, while conversing with Code Name: F. Sanchez about car loans, she informed me that I, little ole me, could hold an FFCU account. Is it because of my newly G.I. Jane haircut that made me a formidable opponent as a secret agent (if not for skill, just for the mere fact that it has made me look like one tough motha sucka)? Or could it be the fact that I know her, Code Name: F. Sanchez and she is part of their covert society based on former FFCU workers who meet and have lunch at some posh restaurant every Thursday?

Alas, no, it is because I am a student, she tells me. A God-damn student?! What's so effing special about that? It's THAT easy to be a member of FFCU? Well, Jesus, I thought, I should go in and apply for a car loan.

And that's just what I did. And I was told that I would have to wait for the response. (which I received and will talk about in another post in the near future, if I ever get my ass back on blog schedule.) What bugged me the most was that my mother showed up at the last minute. Now, understand, she had to show up sooner or later because she was my ride, but she sat there so quietly, not asking any questions, even though the whole point of her being there was for her to ASK QUESTIONS. My God! I guess she forgot to put that on her list of things to do.

Friday: God, I wanted this day to be over so badly. Not just because I was excited about going to see Carl Cox @ Buzz (which I was) but because my week had been ridiculously packed with endless projects, and never ending piles of financial yada and bullshit. The more and more I stay at the this job, the less respect I have for people who have money and flaunt it. I can't tell you how many times in the past week I have had customers keep me on the phone, complaining about how much money they have and how much they had to spend in cash for their $22.6 million home in Milan. Blah, blah, blah.

Friday night: I rushed home from work and immediately tried to clean up my room, get my laundry done and get into my costume for the party. I was going as a schoolgirl. I even bought the sexy pantyhose that only come up thigh-high. Oh yeah, baby. But then I realized at the last minute that I had gotten rid of my black boots and only had brown ones to wear. Well, that wouldn't work. But I didn't really have time to worry about that. J was to be over any minute (close to 8) and I wanted to have the place cleaned up from my work week (because I have a tendency to throw things everywhere during the work week because I come home too exhausted to do anything but sleep) so that he had a place to nap. By this time, as exhausted as I felt, I was too filled with excitement for the party - and I was up and raring to go.

He showed up close to 9. Collapsed on my bed, and the sucka was out like a light. And despite my award-winning cleaning skills, I had failed to get the text that he had sent just minutes before telling me that we probably weren't staying at my place this weekend. All that work for nothin'. Well, at least the room looked pristine to my satisfaction for the most part.

I had the TV running while he was sleeping and I decided to finish getting dressed. Now was the time to focus on the fact that I didn't have matching boots. So after trying different variations, I finally gave up and just threw on a pair of jeans, and a black laced tank top and a black hat and a matching sweatshirt and was done. I put my make-up on and then checked the time. It was close to 11.

I woke up Sleeping Beauty and we were off. And of course, like always, while I was sitting in the car driving there I started to get sleepy - meanwhile, J got wide awake. So by the time we got there, I was exhausted again and he was energized like the pink bunny.

God, was it fun!! I got to see D - who hadn't seen the G.I. Jane look yet. He pulled me aside and admitted to me that he was never worried from the start - due to my "great bone structure" I think is what he said. It was really loud - but then he pulled away and motioned towards my cheek bones, so I think that's what he meant. I love that my guy friends are the kinda dudes that pay attention to things such as "great bone structure". It really meant a lot to me. He kept telling me that it looked great. Probably because D knows I am the type of person that needs to be told a bazillion times.

J got to see his friend J-man. Although J-man's friend was gettin' a little frisky with me. It was flattering in the beginning - you know, the kind words, the look up and down. You ladies know what I'm talking about! Especially when you're not feeling like you have your A-game on (I mean, yes, I took the hat off for the whole night, so it was the first night out as G.I. Jane in a club) and some dude says you're hot. That's always nice to know. But not when they come from behind and get all freak-a-leek on the sides of your body and then crouch down low like they are in a constipated squat trying to press their face close to your booty. Oh, hell no. Not cool.

D caught it though. D saved me! He went to J-man and told J-man I was his sister, and I was kinda "involved with someone" and I didn't want to be touched like that. That was pimp, D, very pimp of you. Much appreciated, my friend.

There was some other creep later on with some massively large and seizure-infested lit glow sticks that was running around and then trying to hit on me and Esther-unni while we were sitting on one of the blocks. J saved us then. Yay J!!!

I was happy to run into Eugene and Kuya EARL!!! Even though Kuya Earl was f*cked up, he recognized me and rubbed my head "for good luck". Asked me how I was doing, and gave me a big big hug. He told me all about what was going on with his family as he always does. I felt like I was part of that family at one point - so he knows I still care. Until he gets to Corp. He suddenly said that Corp was in the market to buy a house in Towson. He started working for Sinai as some sort of respiratory something and had been asking about me. Kuya said he didn't know because he didn't know. J is convinced that Corp is trying to find me. I don't think so ... I think he gave up on me a long time ago - just like I gave up on him before that. Regardless, it was nice seeing Kuya - even though this is the upteenth time I have seen him out WITHOUT a girl!! Hmm... (I have my thoughts about that)

Ohhhh, before I finish Friday night's expo - I gotta point out one thing that really GROUND MY GEARS!! This dumbass piece of no-good white trash of a bouncer (I don't know your name, and you better be so glad I don't) that works at Buzz... for the past few times that I have gone there, he has always been the one who checks my ID. So when he checks it, and I get up there, he takes the ID and he stands there for a good two minutes - moving his eyes from the card, to me, to the card, back to me. Giving me this "I'm a bad ass motha f&cka" look with these piercing eyes and these pursed lips. The first time it happened, I got scared. Second time, annoyed. Third time, pissed off. This time? I looked this motha f&cka right in the eye. IN THE EYE. Try to tell me that's not me, stupid ass. So I shaved my head, bitch - go get some glasses. I didn't have any plastic surgery. It's the same person. Grrrrrr!!! Then he has the audacity to ask me "Do you have any cards on you with the same name?" WTF?! You want my passport? You want to check if I am a legal citizen while you're at it? Grrrrrr!!! I showed him my credit card and then he finally let me in. That bastard... I swear. One more time and I will probably be banned from the club forever for kicking the living shit out of him.

Saturday day/night: Right after Buzz, we all left together. Gen-Gen begged me and J to come to his place (because we didn't go the last time) so we headed over there with the code to his garage door. When we got there, Gen-Gen asked us to take Elvis (his puppy) out. In the rain. In the cold. At 3 or 4 in the morning. Yeaaaahhh...

We did, but Elvis only seemed to want to piss. So we went back inside and waited for Gen-Gen. Thirty minutes pass by - no Gen-Gen. This is where it gets hazy for me. I know we were there for what seems like a while. I remember laying on Gen-Gen's comfy white couch and collapsing... I remember seeing the dog jumping all over the place and J sitting in the chair adjacent to me. How long we were there, I have no clue. J said I started talking inaudibly again...hehehe. Oh well. We all have our moments.

Finally, I just remember J grabbing my hand and telling me we were getting out of there because Gen-Gen was never coming after all.

The rest of the night was AWESOME!! It was just great to hang out with J and be goofy, retarded people. Talk about everything and anything, sing karaoke until we have no voices left, listen to music and make commentary... (he still won't let me live up that damn discussion we had about Irony) it was just really relaxing.

Sunday: I woke up wishing it were Saturday and that weekend wasn't over. But it was Sunday, and we were too tired to do anything but lay in bed, eat something, and then go back to sleep. We did stop at Target really quick so we could pick out a gift for lil Drew. I told him to buy the Duplo (because what kid doesn't like Legos?) but J was thrown off by the fact that the set came with a Duplo cat and he insisted that we not make Drew "sissy"...so instead, we opted to get some some mini cars and trucks (which J dubbed as "manly"). I was so impressed with J's coordinating skills!! He got a blue bag and then got a card that said Happy 2nd Birthday with a dump truck on it! (I am sucker for wrapping gifts with a unified theme and I guess it rubbed off.)

J dropped me off at home, and he headed to the party. I saw the pics on LP's site - looked sooo cute!!! I collapsed in bed, and then woke up to work on Chemistry. And then found that my phone was seriously missing. J called me at work later on to let me know I had left it in his car.

Friday, October 26, 2007


Since my entrance into the world of 15-minute showers and Chia-pet fuzz, life has been fantastic.

Despite my initial disappointment that the shaved head didn't increase my walking speed just by sheer removal of weight, (hey, you know, hair can be heavy. Weight transfer applies to cars - why can't it apply to humans?) I have had this sudden boost of self-confidence, and feel so incredibly lifted and at ease. At this point, I don't think it will make a huge difference with me whether my hair continues to grow or whether the growth stops here. I feel like I've gained my old-self back and it's such a f*cking amazing feeling.

When I look back at just a few months ago, sitting up at T & S's till the early morning, and being so terribly frightened of losing all my hair, and then I look at the me now, it's like a huge transformation. The thing I was scared of the most in the beginning ended up being the one thing that has placed me back on the high self-esteem map!

So I got this new look, and along with it this encouragement to wear make-up every day. (Where before when I left the house and was feeling lazy I would throw my hair into a ponytail and not worry about my face at all. Maybe if you were lucky you'd see me at around noon taking out my eyeliner and smudging a line in my cubicle mirror with an added finish of lip gloss.)

In addition to the added interest in make-up and experimenting with funky colors, I suddenly realized that my old wardrobe of T-shirts and jeans doesn't jive with this haircut at all.

At this revelation, I find myself asking the age old question:

W.hat W.ould S.inead O'. C.onnor W.ear?

This T-shirt and jeans thing just isn't cutting it. Or perhaps I am just coming up with the best damn excuse ever to reward myself with a shopping spree for new clothes for the new 'do.

I feel like my Chia-pet fuzz is whispering fashionista advice in my ear in the morning.

"No, no, don't wear that God awful two-year old blouse from the Gap...who wears that now? I refuse to look good with that shirt. How bout you try that nice brand new Benetton fuschia cashmere sweater you bought last week? You know I look fabulous in cashmere."
Damn, never knew my Chia-pet fuzz was going to have such great taste in fashion.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

My Life as G.I. Jane

I shaved my head on Saturday morning/Friday night. It was one of the most exhilarating things I have done thus far in this past year, so exhilarating that even I was surprised at what an impact it has had on me.

I know that if I had waited to cut it any longer that I probably wouldn't have - or at least I would have put up a good fight. But the fact that it was 3:30 AM or so, and J and I had just gotten home from Fur, and the fact that I was feeling particularly "happy", he just caught me like a deer in headlights.

No sooner had I taken off my "club clothes" and hopped into my PJs was J romping into my room and grabbing his duffel bag.

"You want to cut your hair now?" he asked, holding the bag for his razor in one hand and standing there in my doorway, giving me the look that said he was asking, but knowing full well he was going to cut it anyway regardless of my answer.

"Now? Like, right now?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's best anyways. You can take a shower afterwards since you've been out all night, and then it'll be easier to clean up the hair."

An exasperated sigh ensued, "Okay, I guess you're right."

No sooner had I said okay, J was in the bathroom unzipping and making a lot of racket.

By the time I walked into the hallway and towards the bathroom door, he already had his hair trimmer plugged in and ready to go, all set up nice and neat like a mini barber shop.

He opened up the toilet seat and had me hang my head over the bowl, and I stared at the clear toilet water with suspense as I heard the constant buzz of the hair trimmer in his hand once he clicked it on.

And then it was done. I remember standing up and staring into the bathroom mirror, rubbing my hand over the top, and turning my head left and right to admire his handywork.

Since I have been "G.I. Jane-d" it is like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I have found this sense of freedom that I never thought imaginable. Weird, I know - that it would all come from just shaving a bit of hair off, but truly, honestly, it really has opened up this whole new source of positive energy for me.

I guess I never realized (until I shaved it off) how much the remnants of my "old" hair was really weighing me down. It was forcing me to be critical of myself, and forcing me to be judgmental because every time I looked in the mirror, those pieces were a constant reminder of what I used to have.

Plus, the long hair in those random areas matched with the patches of Chia-pet fuzz (that's what I call the little baby hairs that are slowly growing in my bald spots) everywhere was just daunting to look at.

And what's awesome about this haircut? 15-minute showers. 10 minutes to get dressed. I love it. No fuss with the hair, no curling irons, no blow dryers. Me, my fuzzball of a head and a nice outfit. Boom. Done.

Friday, October 19, 2007

I love Dr. B and all but...


How freakin' awesome is that? Once I took the wig off, and showed him how much progress my hair growth has been making - he even said that he was super happy with the Dritho-scalp and the results.

The attending today was kind of a dick. I don't know - it seemed like he would ask me a question and then look more at Dr. B than at me...which kind of irked me a little bit but hey, those attendings can't all be winners!!!

It doesn't matter anyway - the "dick" agreed with Dr. B and I that my hair was definitely growing back and that I should continue on the Dritho-scalp.

Dr. B asked me how long I had been leaving it on for (since the last time they had seen me they told me to try to leave it on for up to two hours). I kind of confessed that I had done some experimenting on my own and had pretty much been leaving it on my head for 4+ hours and just sleeping with a hair cap on my head with the medicine all on my scalp. I figured that it wasn't irritating my scalp to the point of no return, and why not leave it on for the maximum amount to see if it works any faster? I guess it did!! (hehe)

So the end result is: keep doing what I'm doing and they will see me back in two months!! YAY!!!!!!

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Day One of Wig-Wearing Under My Belt

I had started to write this blog entry last night after my Chem lab, but a kid whom I had met several years ago during my first year at CCBC grabbed me to start talking. Apparently, he never forgot me, even with a wig on my head.

So yesterday was my first day in wig-wearing glory. The night before was when I had purchased it from the wig store on Taylor & Loch Raven (The one that everyone who I had talked to always raved about.) which turned out to be a very less emotional experience the second time around.

Ever since that first time in the wig shop, I had realized that I wasn't fully ready as much as I thought I was. I don't think that I had fully accepted who I was without the wig, even though I truly thought I had moved on from that, until I hung out at my friend Scott's house a couple weeks ago.

Scott is a DJ. Well, he just started and his first "true" gig was at XS the other night. So I tagged along with a group of people to show some support. After the restaurant closed, we decided to head over to Scott's house to have some food and some mojitos.

This was the first time that these guys would see me the closest I have ever been to being bald. And what was even cooler was that previously that night, when Jolee came to pick me up from my house, I just ran down the steps with no hat on, with nothing to answer the door.

I don't know what compelled me to do that, but I was really glad that I had. I think it was just time. That and a high disregard for not having enough time to put a hat on. Irregardless of what the reasons were behind it, if any, I answered that door with my dome completely exposed.

I think half way through my walk up the steps once they started to follow me into the house it hit me that I was bald and I felt my heart skip a beat. But by that time I had already committed myself - so I just went with it.

It felt so incredibly freeing. I mean I have read so many posts from people talking about how they revealed their bald heads to the world - and how it felt so freeing but I never thought I'd ever feel it to the extent that I felt it. It was like freedom had come to fruition.

So it wasn't any surprise that later on, while at Scott's house, I suddenly just lifted the hat off my head - and sat there on the couch, continuing on my conversation with Godfather Sage - with no hesitation whatsoever.

And that was it - that was the point where I knew it was time to get the wig. I know it sounds sort of backwards really, why would I be getting a wig just now as I am becoming completely comfortable with being bald? Why cover up that free feeling?

Well because when I first went to the wig store that's exactly what I was doing. Covering up my embarrassment. My shame, my horror, my fears, and my sadness. That wig was doing everything that I was too scared to do - to just face my fears and the truth of it all and embrace it. That's why it wasn't time. That's why I was so consumed with sadness and emotional turmoil.

But now that I am free. Now that I know I am comfortable with being bald - just walking around my house, going to sleep, taking out the trash, exercising - now that I know that, I can now go to the wig store and buy that wig because I WANT to, not because I feel I NEED to. A wig is not something a person should NEED. It should be something a person should WANT. And that's what I wanted to feel. That's what made it the right time for me. Because I knew at that point, the wig wasn't going to hide anything that I hadn't already come to accept. The wig is my play time, my fun time... it is my ability to express that inner crazy self that leaps out in so many other ways - why can't wig wearing be one of them, too?

Monday, October 15, 2007

Testing, testing: One, Two, Three...

Today is my second Chemistry exam which I spent all of ...five hours (plus the one hour today) studying for.

Do I feel confident? Hell no.

Do I care? Kinda, sorta.

I'm in one of those downbeat days. The ones where you dress up nice to make up for the fact that you feel like absolute crap.

I feel like I am losing grip on everything. And that honesty might not always be the best policy for me. I tend to just say how I feel and not think about what other people are going to think or how they might react. And then it always backfires with them getting angry, or frustrated.

I need to find a happy medium with what I let come out of my mouth ... or some really strong duct tape.

Trying to come to terms...

This boy wants to play, there's no time left today
It's a shame 'cause he has to go home
This boy got to work, got to sweat
just to pay what he gets to get left all alone

Well let's step outside, let's go for a ride just for a while
Oh we won't get caught, well that's what I thought
until we cried

I'm still here
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down
For years I've been holding it down

This girl tries her best every day
but it's all gone to waste cause there's no one around
This girl, she can draw, she can paint, likes to dance,
she can skate - now she don't make a sound
We'll play in the park, till it's too dark for us to see
We'll make our way home, with mud on our clothes,
she won't be pleased...

I'm still here
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down

And I love to forgive and forget
so I'll try to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older that I get the more that I know
Well it's time to let this go...

I've got to let it go, I've got to let it go
I've got to let it go, I've got to let it go

I'm still here,
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down

And I'd love to forgive and forget
So I tried to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older I get the more that I know...

And I'd love to forgive and forget
So I tried to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older I get the more that I know
Well it's time to let this go

-"This Boy" by James Morrison

Saturday, October 6, 2007

Plastic Heads

I went to the wig shop last night for the very first time. My father and I were in the neighborhood of the one that people kept suggesting to me, so I decided to have him drop me off to check it out while he went grocery shopping.

As I walked through the doors, for no reason at all, I choked up. I'm still not quite sure where that came from - I didn't realize how nervous I was subconsciously until I immediately was faced with rows and rows of plastic heads covered with wigs.

It was overwhelming, and almost like walking through a Halloween store for me. None of them looked like me. I kept reminding myself that this wasn't for a costume anymore, this was for the real deal. I suddenly realized that I could easily make a wrong decision and it might end up looking hideous and ridiculously out of place on my head. I also suddenly realized that maybe I wasn't as ready as I thought I was, emotionally.

I don't know how to explain this to anyone so that they might fully understand. There are plenty of people out there who buy wigs; according to some of my girlfriends, it is becoming a popular trend among celebrities even. It's not an unusual practice, and just by wearing a wig, it isn't going to mark me as a freak. BUT...

this is new to me.

It didn't matter to me that there were about twenty people already in the store roaming around and trying on extensions and wigs. It didn't matter that they had rows and rows of hair products and a hairstylist section where you could sit down and have the wig shaped and cut to your liking after you had purchased it.

What hit me first was walking past the longer hair wigs. The ones that reminded me of what my hair used to look like. I think that because I have lived with this patchy baldness for the past two months already that I had grown accustomed to how it looks in the mirror. It wasn't until I approached the long haired section that I started to tear up. I touched the frayed ends of what is remaining of my hair now and realized that I almost couldn't remember what it felt like to have long hair. I almost couldn't remember what it was like to pull it back into a ponytail when it got humid and it used to stick to the back of my neck. I used to hate that, and it irritated me to the point of no return.

I would give anything to feel my hair press against my sweaty neck like that now. Anything.

That frightened me. I could barely remember. What did I look like? Why didn't I appreciate it more than I did when I had it? Did I really use to have those wispy bangs? Was I really able to have cute curls at one time? It might seem like I am clinging too much to a painful past, but I know for a fact that I never want to forget what that felt like. What it looked like. Because I know I have to keep the dream alive that I will get back to that girl again, for my own inner strength purposes.

My life seems to be filled with these complicated situations recently where I am flooded with an abundance of mixed feelings and emotions. Wanting and not wanting things, in particular.

A part of me was excited, hopeful, wanting to try every single wig on. The other part of me kept saying it wasn't time yet, emotionally, I just am not ready.

The girl who was walking around spotted me and came over.

"Do you need any help with anything?" she asked, with a smile, "Do you want to look at the wigs?"

"Well, yes, but I don't know where to begin. This is my first time in a wig shop. Do you have human hair and synthetic?"

"Yes, we have both. Human hair is marked with green tags, and synthetics are pink tags," she said, pointing to the rows on the wall.

"What is the main difference between the two, would you say?" I asked, nervously biting my lip. The longer I looked, the more the collection of wigs seemed to grow.

"Human hair can be styled with heat, and curled. The synthetic wigs cannot," the girl said, still smiling.

"Well, I noticed over there while looking at the longer hair ones that they were held on with a comb. Do you think that you have ones with Velcro holders?" I asked.

"The back comb ones? Well all of them come with the Velcro option. You just buy one of the hair wig nets and place them on first and then they connect with the top of the wig," she said picking a random wig off one of the plastic heads to show me.

My eyes widened a little at the unexpected move of how easily she pulled the wig off that plastic head. A minute ago it looked like an Asian woman's head with a nice full head of hair styled with girls, and now the hair lay in between her hands, lifeless. She turned it over to show me the inside.

"Do you see the clip here? You can adjust the inside so that it fits tighter on your head. Like a bra strap," she said as she unhooked the little piece inside of it and moved it over one to the next hook holder.

I nodded, "That's exactly what I was wondering. It's just that I have alopecia ...and I don't think I have enough hair to hold the back comb ones down."

I have gotten used to saying that word. I tried to incorporate it into my vocabulary so I wouldn't choke up anymore at the sound of it.

She nodded and didn't seem affected at all by my blunt statement of my abnormal-ness. What had taken me months to say outright in a few seconds, this girl took as a grain of salt. It's amazing how some stuff works like that.

After a short pause she walked back over and placed the wig back on the plastic head.

"So do you want to try one on?" she smiled.

No, no, no, said the inner me, it's too scary, it's too real. You're bald. You're bald. This is fake hair. Fake.

"Yes," said the outer me.

"Good, I'll be right back with a fresh wig cap," she said disappearing into the back.

In the middle of the wig section was a table and a swivel chair on one side and a stationary chair on the other. On top of the table with a big mirror.

The girl returned with a black sock-looking thing.

"Here," she said handing it to me, "Just put it on your head."

I stood in front of that mirror and slowly removed my hat. In the fluorescent lights of the store, my discolored scalp and bald spots looked red, irritated and enormous. I quickly stretched out the cap and placed it on top of my scalp and tucked in the ends of my hair.

"Alright, please pick out one that you'd like to try," the girl said once she saw the cap on my head.

I still was trying to get used to what I looked like with the black cap on. I turned around and looked up at the rows and rows of wigs.

After a few minutes of staring like a kid in a huge toy store, I looked at the girl with a nervous smile and laugh.

"I have no idea what I like... I want it to look real. I don't want it to look..." my voice dropped off. Mainly because the word I was looking for was 'wig'. Which was unavoidable at this point.

The girl gave me a kind of look. "Well, they are wigs. Just chose the style you want. Have fun with it."

I went to the other side of the plastic heads and stared at the row of mid-length hair pieces.

My eyes caught onto a mid-length black one with brown streaks. It caught my eye because it reminded me of the color of my hair before.

"Can I try that one on?" I asked, pointing to it.

"Of course," said the girl walking over to it already. She leisurely lifted it from the plastic head and motioned for me to sit in the swivel chair in front of the mirror.

I watched as she played with the "bra straps" of the wig on the inside to make it fit my head.

She motioned to the mirror to indicate for me to look into it while she placed the wig on my head for me.

I watched as she stretched the front on first, adjusting the hairline so that it fit on my head in the correct position. She reached underneath and towards the nape of my neck to straighten out the back of the wig.

And then she proceeded to comb it.

It was the weirdest, surrealist feeling I had ever felt before. I almost didn't want to look into the mirror because up to that point I had been staring at the table top.

When I lifted my eyes, I couldn't believe how real it looked. But it wasn't my hair. I shoved that thought into the back of my mind and tried to focus on the wig itself, and how it looked on my head.

At first it felt awkward, but once I started running my fingers through it, I got used to its look. It had wispy bangs, which would need to be cut once I bought it because they kept swiping into my eyes.

"I think it looks perfect on you," exclaimed the girl, standing back as if to admire her handywork.

"You do?" I asked, "you know, I really like it, too..."

But I didn't buy it. I had to sleep on it.

When I got home later on, I sat in my apartment with a glass of black raspberry wine and scribbled for three hours into my journal.

Today, I think I'll go back to purchase it. It's a big step. And even if I go out and buy it, I am not sure when I'd wear it out - whether I'd be comfortable with wearing it out or whether I'd spend the entire night wondering if other people thought I was wearing a wig. Or worse - knew I was wearing a wig.

One step at a time though, right?

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Master of Musical Irony

Damn stupid fucking school computers. Won't let me compose in the main spot, so if this looks funky, it's because I had to type it in the "Edit HTML" area. And since I am HTML illiterate, this post will just have to look funky.

Okay, so as I was thinking before I was so rudely interrupted by this incompetent piece of crap for a computer...

I was just sitting here listening to my iPod while waiting for my Mom to decide to come and pick me up from school. It's 9:26 pm and I don't think she realizes the things that I still have yet to do tonight - I have to prepare my 6 minute speech for tomorrow about Korea. I also have to create the poster on poster board, and do my hair. I also have to go back to my apartment to pick out clothes so that I have something to wear tomorrow (I start my driving training tomorrow with the State and I am pretty nervous.). I have to do all of this TONIGHT. And yet she told me that I just have to hold on a minute and stay here a little while longer.

Thus why I am blogging while listening to my iPod.

Anyways, I just realized while sitting here and listening to some Phil Collins that he is totally the master of musical irony.

Listen to the beginning of "Throwing It All Away" by Genesis and you'll see what I mean. It starts out with such a happy melody, and then once you get into the song and really listen to the song, it's really kinda sad. Depressing, even.

I mean, take a listen to "Invisible Touch". I am sure all of you danced to it one time or another, but have you really ever listened to the lyrics? It's about a woman that he doesn't even know the name of, that he's never been with - and yet he knows he's in love with. It's basically about that desperation of loving someone you'll never be able to be near.

It amazes me how much Phil Collins is able to take a crap paddy and stuff it in a neat little box and tie it with a pretty ribbon. It becomes a crap paddy disguised as a gift. A pretty little neat package of feel-good toe-tapping beats, with sad, depressing and realistic lyrics tucked in between.

Oh Phil Collins, you genius, you. Thank God you're back on tour with Genesis. Genesis without you is like peanut butter and jelly without the jelly.

I had a blog post sitting in editing but...

Today - all I feel like doing is listening to my iPod (specifically the song below by The Format) because it's just setting my mood. I am actually pretty content and happy today, but this song totally just struck me as another way of expressing how I've been feeling recently.

The Format - "I'm Ready, I Am"

I'm nicotine, I'm coming clean
I fooled the crowd when I made it sound
like I was more then ready

Strike up the band, deprive
My sleep cause there's no love like apathy
the bell that tolls rings loud enough
that it should have woke us up

I'm trying to find truth in words,
in rhymes, in notes, in all the things
I wish I'd wrote cause
I feel like I've been losing you

I read your last entry
over-privileged kids keep crying
the need to fit in is harder when living life from a screen.
old Classmates, please drop all your pens
don't write a word cause I wont reply
and I'm not bitter, no its just
I've passed that point in my life

I'm trying to find truth in words,
in rhymes, in notes, in all the things
I wish I'd wrote cause
I feel like I've been losing you.

Each night it ends too soon
you don't hold me like you used to
and your eyes look like they've seen too much.
Its always some excuse too tired,
too obtuse, you look so far removed,
this time I fear I'm losing you

I'm nicotine, I'm a cash machine
I'm the colour green and you should have seen
the looks I just received

I need a reason to let go an intervention,
a lullaby something to cure me
please believe me

I'm trying to find truth in words,
in rhymes, in notes, in all the things
I wish I'd wrote cause
I feel like I'm losing you.