It’s a good thing they legalized gay marriage here in New York, because I just have to marry this woman. Sorry Terrence. This summer when I was introduced to her first single, Video Games, I was blown away by her talent. Being the cynic that I am, I reserved my infatuation for more singles. Then came Blue Jeans, which was friggin awesome, needless to say I was sold and couldn’t wait for an LP. But today when her new video for Born to Die was released on YouTube, it was over. I’m officially in love, the wedding is underway. I love female artists with a strong voice, its gets me all giddy.
Her lips kill me, I feel like its almost an insult to cover them with lipstick. Jealous.
I know I said something about doing these more current, but I started school. I’m twenty-seven, school tires me more than the kids ten years younger than me in my classes. I forget about all forms of life and focus solely on napping… and dress shopping, it’s a problem.
In the month of August I wanted to explore the different ways I’ve been wearing my hair, since I forgot to do that in the months prior. As my hair grows and I can pull off more things I’ll try to learn some new styles to keep you all entertained, so far I have a small line up… it’ll have to do for now.
This last month I tried again to pull off the dual french braid action, a lot less bobby pins were essential this time… although still plenty of troops in service.
August was the first month that I became confident enough in the length of my hair to stop straightening it religiously, it was quite liberating. I may have spent a few weeks this way, it was great having the choice. I loathed being forced to blow out and iron out my mane.
I stopped being cheap lazy and purchased a new curling iron, one with a 1 inch diameter, instead of my usual 2 inches. I prefer to straighten my hair with a curling iron, I feel like it gets my hair a lot straighter than most flat irons I’ve owned, and I like more texture and bounce rather than having flat hair. Sadly my hair is too short for 2 inches so I’ve been forced to have flat boring hair since May. Until now, I’m way happier with the appearance of my locks this way. It makes me feel prettier, which in turn makes me more confident… and ensures that I won’t be touching make up any time soon.
For the sake of exposing the length of my hair, here it is all flattened and booooring for ya. Once it passes my collar bone I’ll being celebrating. Maybe I’ll learn how to cartwheel for the occasion.
Last week-ish we were asleep, when all of a sudden — THUD.
When we got back from vacation a few weeks prior our kitchen ceiling began to fall apart. This spot is right above Dutch’s food and water dishes, thankfully we moved those already.
I blame heavy rain and shoddy landlords. Seriously, no one has bothered to take us seriously about the state of this ceiling. During “Tropical Storm” Irene we had pot and pans scattered all over the place to catch the drips. Terrence’s closet was under attack and since the end of August has been emptied with its contents scattered ALL OVER our bedroom. Now every time it rains, its an indoor affair. Its beginning to look like more of the kitchen ceiling will be tumbling down any day now…
Supposedly theirs a very busy handyman just waiting to sink his teeth into our roof issues… I’m starting to believe he’s either fictional… or dead.
I originally planned to post these a month after the photo’s are actually taken; but as I sit down to write about last month in hair… I can’t seem to remember many of my milestones. I may have to speed these up to current pace so I can keep everyone in the moment. Perhaps in the next two weeks I’ll move it along.
Lets see… in the growth between June and July I was almost able to pull my hair tight enough to have dual french braid action, however, many a bobby pin was needed. I’ve yet to try it again after coming home from a full day out in this style, only to walk passed a mirror and see my disheveled self staring back at me. I promise I will try to remember to take photo’s of these hair situations as they arise from… now on (meaning today, unfortunately I’m still semi-useless in the coming post).
I became brave enough today in July to get a haircut. Most of my friends cringed and objected when they read my updates of the event. Rest easy friends, it was only my bangs. The one thing my once upon a stylist did leave long were my bangs and after only two months I couldn’t see a thing. What was really brave of me (says my NEW stylist) was the fact that I returned to the scene of the crime. Yes, I was that lazy. I figured it was just the bangs and played a little hair roulette, no recommended hair people, just the first available. Boy did I get lucky, not only did I get a women with the same hair type as me, but her hair had been likewise assaulted in the past. She was blown away by how bad my haircut was, finally someone got it. Every now and then she’d stop to awe at the hack job, as she tried to hide her distaste for the girl who did it. I read between the lines. My new stylist, as I fell in love and fully intend to trust her to one day cut more than my bangs… one day far from today (the real today), was trained in Manhattan as well. Which to me means no hideous (and unnecessary) volumizing, a trademark of Staten Island hair people. She did suggest an asymmetric bob, I’ll forgive her her trespasses on that idea. In all fairness, she was only trying to help my female mullet down from the ledge.
As far as the cutting goes, as ugly and hacked as my hair is I would much rather let it grow to a maintainable length before I start fixing it. Maybe it’s the trauma talking, maybe I’ll change my mind… but I doubt it.
It had happened again, and it was so bad this time that I didn’t want to show anyone. Come to think about it, it was pretty bad every time.
Since I was very young my mother forced me to have hair passed my ass butt. Sometimes I’d forget to move it out of the way and it would go in the toilet, I was like 3 or 4 when that happened… don’t judge me. I used to beg my mother to cut it short and she’d rant about the importance of Spanish women having long, flowing, beautiful hair. It was a cultural thing this length, short hair was considered ugly. My mother told me that my hair belonged to her and that I wouldn’t be allowed to cut it until I was 18 years old when it would then belong to me.
1989, 5 years old
[This was the day of my very first haircut, my mother took off one whole inch.]
1999, 15 years old
[It took me three hours to straighten this mess.]
When I was nineteen I went to the salon with my Amélie DVD in tow and pointed to the front cover and told the stylist to do that to me. She in turn made me look like a Rubber Soul era Ringo Starr. When I was 21 my hair was at it’s best, until I had a nervous breakdown and chopped it all off again, this time the stylist determined that my hair was too thick for a short cut and hacked into it with thinning shears, it took months to recover. At 23 I had yet another nervous breakdown, this time I looked like a soccer mom (don’t worry, after this recent hick up I found a therapist, my hair can’t handle this torture any longer).
2003, 19 years old
[Fortunate for me but I guess unfortunate to the story I don't really have any photo's of my hair looking all Ringo. This photo was after my hair had grown out a bit and my bangs were pinned back.]
2005, 21 years old
[This photo was actually taken the day after the worst day of my life, I didn't bother straightening my hair. I in no way left the house like this on an ordinary day.]
2007, 23 years old
[I thought this haircut was so lame that I don't have any photo's of myself looking soccer mommy other than this little guy.]
The point of the trip down hair memory lane is to prove that I do not learn my lesson, I have never had a successful short haircut… yet for some insane and unknown reason, I did it again. I don’t know what I look like now, it’s just a choppy disaster. I’ve had a lot of bad haircuts but this was the first time that I actually cried when I saw what my once upon a faithful stylist had done to me.
May 18, 2011, 27 years old
The day that I cut my hair I wanted to crawl under the sheets and never come out. Unfortunately for me it was my brothers birthday so I had to come out in public and sit around my judgmental family members. My brother Paul greeted me with a “What did you do?!” I hadn’t even taken my hat off yet… which it was like pulling teeth in order to get me to do. The following day I had to go to work, where I wasn’t allowed to wear a hat. After work I went shopping for many head bands so I could hide as much hair as possible.
May 19, 2011
With this hack job I feel very ugly, and less feminine. I’ve been experimenting with make-up, something I haven’t bothered to do since I was 16 years old and my boyfriend would tell me I looked stupid so I took my shirt and wiped it all off and never tried to wear make-up again… outside of a few times when I was 19, probably because I looked like Ringo and I felt ugly again. I haven’t really been wearing jeans or anything outside of dresses, I’ve been trying to wear more jewelry and paint my nails. I really do feel super butch. Most people I tell this to yell at me and call me an idiot, but they didn’t have a trusted hair stylist go Edward Scissorhands on their heads.
Last month a co-worker told me that my hair was growing fast, so I came home excited and took a photo to compare lengths from last month. I decided to come out of the hair closet and show you all these photos as I take them so you can join me in this hair growth journey.
June 18, 2011
I’d like to think that my hair is growing. I’m anxious for it to get to a length where I can wear it curly again… you know, without looking all Little Orphan Annie. I’ll keep you posted. Tuesday I’m going to brave the hair salon again. My bangs need trimming, I am terrified.
Living bakery adjacent has its perks, the air outside is always delicious and sometimes if we’re around at just the right moment we score free bread. Downfalls come with perks too unfortunately, lack of parking, loud baking sounds throughout the night, oh and one more thing… the occasional mouse. This is the part that makes me thankful we have Penny… sometimes. In the year and a half living here we’ve had a handful of tiny visitors, but Penny made sure that they counted. Their was the first one, when I thought she was playing with a toy and then it began to move on its own, resulting in my crying/laughing hysterically as I clutched onto the broom and the phone (with my mother coaxing me back from the ledge) trying to get the mouse out before it scurried back downstairs from whence it came. Second time Penny caught a friend she wanted to show off her talents while we were sleeping and dropped it onto me in the bed. Try getting back to sleep after that, well… Terrence had no trouble… bastard. Third friend Penny cornered in the bathroom until Terrence grabbed it up by it’s tail and set it free outside.
Terrence is friend to all things Mickey, Jerry and Itchy. I’m all about murder, death, kill the intruder and he’s all set it free in a patch of daisies and sprinkle some cheese on it. These three visits were all last year around the same time… the end of Winter/Beginning of Spring. And like clockwork it started again. This time Penny is better prepared, last year she had been new to hunting… she’d carry her friends around in her mouth and then lose track of them. She’ll not be made to look like a fool this year though, this year she was better prepared. A few weeks ago on a lovely Sunday morning, I was walking into the bathroom as I was wiping the sleep from my eyes and their he was on the floor waiting for me… this time, dead. Penny had learned how to kill her pray, at least she didn’t bring it into my bed. I ran into the bedroom and begged Terrence to get rid of it, all the while he was apologizing to the critter and saying “Poor little guy”. Freak. I looked at Penny and was all, not cool cat… but thank you.
Yesterday morning a similar pattern of sleeping from eye wiping was occurring on my way to my morning shower when I noticed yet another friend of Mickey on the floor… this time the bathroom floor was splattered with blood… it was everywhere. I ran into the bedroom and shook Terrence awake (did I mention it was 6am?) and told him that Penny had massacred a mouse in our bathroom. Without a fuss or evening asking questions he got up, unrolled some toilet paper and picked up Penny’s leavings… on his way back from the garbage he said to me without raising his head, “You’re gonna have to clean the blood” and then he went right back to sleep. I was still standing their stunned that my adorable little Penny had become a serial killer.
Last year when I made Terrence’s Space Invaders blanket for our anniversary there were a lot of people trying to convince me to open an online shop and sell them. At the time I didn’t think I was talented enough to charge people for my afghans. And so I continued to craft things and learn. Back in October I decided to make another Space Invaders blanket, this time in the original game colors. The recipient of this creation was to be Terrence’s sister, Beth. She’s always shown an interest in his blanket and said that she wanted one, never in a serious “Make me one” kind of way though. Even still I used her as my excuse to make the blanket again. I had a lot of fun with hers and tried to make it as authentic as possible. One problem I had, however, was that it was too large. I miscounted my chain and was too lazy to redo it. I really hate crocheting the first line, it makes me cranky, so big it stayed. This time even more people urged me to sell them. So sell them I will (in a slightly smaller version). I created an Etsy shop, which is currently empty and awaiting my fingers to heal and craft more afghans.
I’ve been crocheting since I was 12-years-old, but only ever learned one stitch (double crochet). Before I go on with my Atari recreations I wanted to learn a stitch that would be more box-like and in the last few weeks have been studying on YouTube and eHow.com to perfect what my mother taught me. Now I feel a bit more ready. Today I even started work on sketches for a new video game blanket, but I’ll continue to make the same old one, don’t worry.
I was first introduced to Warby Parker frames a few months back when I was reading through my blog feeds and was immediately smitten. My favorite part was being able to select up to 5 pairs to have sent to you for home try-on. Back then the waiting list was around 6 months long and I was slightly discouraged from putting my name in the hat. Recently I decided it was time to do so and discovered that the wait was dramatically slashed, only 5 days. I was floored and immediately submitted my try-on order. They even arrived a day early, nice. Before opening the package I went out to dinner with some girlfriends and had them assess the frames on me. The following morning, still without looking at them on myself, I asked for Terrence’s opinion. Now I felt prepared to look in a mirror. Most of the frames come in a variety of colors, so more than looking for the perfect pair I asked that my pals consider the shape of each frame and the color on my skin tone. The responses varied person to person. Still a bit lost I brought the pairs with me to work and asked a few colleagues. Sadly, the results are still up in the air. Most of my work responses were indifferent, my close friends were blunt to say the least, and Terrence seemed either indifferent or strongly against. At $95 a pair I’m not opposed to buying multiple frames, all 5 pairs together still don’t equal the amount I’ve paid in the past for any pair of my regular Selima Optique lenses. Which have in the past cost me well over $500 with the lenses included, whereas Warby Parker’s set price of $95 includes lenses. Sure the quality of the frames aren’t in the same league, but they’re not far apart either. So without further ranting I give you the results of my Warby Parker home try-on fun:
In some cases I think that Dutch may look cuter than I do in the frames… he got a smooch and a biscuit for being such a good sport.
Ok really, I need your help. I still may do another 5 pairs before actually purchasing. But I need all the feedback I can get. Leave a comment, send an email, text me, do something. Even if you just want to tell me how horrible I look, just be gentle.
Thanks.
(Ed Note: I decided on the Webb’s in Amber, they’re absolutely lovely.)
