Sad Curls
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
A Different Kind of Catch
I can't believe my mother is still giving me the "How to Catch a Good Man" lecture. I suppose I have been unsuccessful so far, which I can't deny, she' s right.
I have preferred my hair short since I was 7 , when I had my mother cut off at least a foot of my long, straight, brown hair. Then there was the time I spent a week away from my parents at EFY and had my friend, cut it in my dorm with a pair of paper scissors I bought at the book store.
Each time I cut my hair, my father reacted as though I were cutting off one of his own fingers. It broke his heart that I wouldn't let it grow. He has done so much as writing me a letter solely about the beauty of a woman's hair to a man and included a picture of my hair shoulder length so I could admire it's beauty. One time, he even bribed me with $100 to grow my hair out. I took him up on it. I got the money, dyed it black, then cut it off again a week later.
I have always known that short hair tends to attract a certain kind of man, the kind of man that I also find appealing. So, it would make sence for me to keep my hair short to attract that certain kind of man, right? Besides that, the few times that I let my hair grow long, (not necessarily purposefully, I simply didn't go get it cut and longer hair was the result.) my life always turned to shambles. It usually has to do with the breaking up of a boy, but not always. My solution was always to cut my hair. I suppose it's symbolic of ridding myself of the negativity or rejection. This cured me of my heartbreak and changed my attitude about my life. I concluded that the length of my hair was directly linked to my own happiness. I can recall several instances that back this theory. So, not only have my short hair styles been a way for me to be unique, bold, expressive, and fickle, but also as a matter of keeping my own sanity.
I was reading a survey recently about whether it's true that men preffer long hair to short. The majority of them said they do. A few mentioned that some girls also look great with short hair. I have been told by several people that I look good in short hair, so I don't think it's not a matter of it looking good on me.
A few days later I was waiting in a hair salon for a woman that I visit for work. I was reading some comments that a few men said about the pictured hair styles. They all favored the longer hair styles. In the same magazine I saw a picture of a girl with blonde hair about the same length as mine who they had permed her hair with tongue depressors. The effect was this kinky, frizzy, but tame poof. To look into the curls from the ends was like a spiralying triangle. I thought it was really fun and different. They suggested to get the same effect without perming it, to put gell in wet hair and let it dry to set.
I bought some popsicle sticks and started wrapping my hair around them. I told my mom about the picture and how they permed this girl's hair with tongue depressors. She seemed excited about it too. I told her that I would like to try to grow my hair out, but that I needed something to do with it in the mean time. She agreeded that a perm would be a good idea.
The popsicle sticks weren't quite as effective with making it kinky because it got wrapped with so much hair, but it did turn out very curly. I wore the massive Afro-curls in my hair today and I decided that I would like to try to perm it with the tongue depressors. I asked my mother if she thought that a salon would do it for me that way. Her response was, " a ehh, I don't think so."
So, I asked her if she would do it for me. Then I found out how she really felt about it. She thought it was childish and fadish.
"I know you never take advice from me....", she started. "But you are almost 30 years old. Why do want to try this childish, fadish hairstyle? When you wear your hair in such a way it is only attractive to 5% of the guys, and they are usually the ones that are a little bit wild, less reliable and not always worthy to take you to the temple. Why not wear your hair in a way that makes you look beautiful? You are beautiful. You need to let it show."
When I was born, the nurse flattered her by telling her that brown hair and blue eyes is a rare combination, she has believed that all these years. As if I have some advantage for being special in this way. Doesn't 1/5 of the caucasian population have brown hair and blue eyes? Which is about equal to the percentage that have my real name. If different is good, then why can't I be different in my own way?
"But, it's not ME." I retorted. "I like to do things a little differently than other people. "
"I know you are not ME, and I am not YOU. Be YOU, and be yourself. I know you never agree with me about style." She paused, then continued... "I want to tell you something, I'm not sure how to say this, but You, your father, Aaron and I, we are all connected. The things we do individually, affect the family as a while...."
"Are you trying to tell me that if I permed my hair with tongue depressors over rollers, I will not find a mate and continue to be a burden on you and the family?" I interrupted.
"Well, it could lead to that....."
I stopped listening after that. It was hard enough for me to already admit to myself that I needed to humble myself and grow my hair out to better my chances. How much more of my personality will I have to strip to find someone to love me? And is it really me that they would be falling in love with, or what I have made myself to be in order to catch them?
I have preferred my hair short since I was 7 , when I had my mother cut off at least a foot of my long, straight, brown hair. Then there was the time I spent a week away from my parents at EFY and had my friend, cut it in my dorm with a pair of paper scissors I bought at the book store.
Each time I cut my hair, my father reacted as though I were cutting off one of his own fingers. It broke his heart that I wouldn't let it grow. He has done so much as writing me a letter solely about the beauty of a woman's hair to a man and included a picture of my hair shoulder length so I could admire it's beauty. One time, he even bribed me with $100 to grow my hair out. I took him up on it. I got the money, dyed it black, then cut it off again a week later.
I have always known that short hair tends to attract a certain kind of man, the kind of man that I also find appealing. So, it would make sence for me to keep my hair short to attract that certain kind of man, right? Besides that, the few times that I let my hair grow long, (not necessarily purposefully, I simply didn't go get it cut and longer hair was the result.) my life always turned to shambles. It usually has to do with the breaking up of a boy, but not always. My solution was always to cut my hair. I suppose it's symbolic of ridding myself of the negativity or rejection. This cured me of my heartbreak and changed my attitude about my life. I concluded that the length of my hair was directly linked to my own happiness. I can recall several instances that back this theory. So, not only have my short hair styles been a way for me to be unique, bold, expressive, and fickle, but also as a matter of keeping my own sanity.
I was reading a survey recently about whether it's true that men preffer long hair to short. The majority of them said they do. A few mentioned that some girls also look great with short hair. I have been told by several people that I look good in short hair, so I don't think it's not a matter of it looking good on me.
A few days later I was waiting in a hair salon for a woman that I visit for work. I was reading some comments that a few men said about the pictured hair styles. They all favored the longer hair styles. In the same magazine I saw a picture of a girl with blonde hair about the same length as mine who they had permed her hair with tongue depressors. The effect was this kinky, frizzy, but tame poof. To look into the curls from the ends was like a spiralying triangle. I thought it was really fun and different. They suggested to get the same effect without perming it, to put gell in wet hair and let it dry to set.
I bought some popsicle sticks and started wrapping my hair around them. I told my mom about the picture and how they permed this girl's hair with tongue depressors. She seemed excited about it too. I told her that I would like to try to grow my hair out, but that I needed something to do with it in the mean time. She agreeded that a perm would be a good idea.
The popsicle sticks weren't quite as effective with making it kinky because it got wrapped with so much hair, but it did turn out very curly. I wore the massive Afro-curls in my hair today and I decided that I would like to try to perm it with the tongue depressors. I asked my mother if she thought that a salon would do it for me that way. Her response was, " a ehh, I don't think so."
So, I asked her if she would do it for me. Then I found out how she really felt about it. She thought it was childish and fadish.
"I know you never take advice from me....", she started. "But you are almost 30 years old. Why do want to try this childish, fadish hairstyle? When you wear your hair in such a way it is only attractive to 5% of the guys, and they are usually the ones that are a little bit wild, less reliable and not always worthy to take you to the temple. Why not wear your hair in a way that makes you look beautiful? You are beautiful. You need to let it show."
When I was born, the nurse flattered her by telling her that brown hair and blue eyes is a rare combination, she has believed that all these years. As if I have some advantage for being special in this way. Doesn't 1/5 of the caucasian population have brown hair and blue eyes? Which is about equal to the percentage that have my real name. If different is good, then why can't I be different in my own way?
"But, it's not ME." I retorted. "I like to do things a little differently than other people. "
"I know you are not ME, and I am not YOU. Be YOU, and be yourself. I know you never agree with me about style." She paused, then continued... "I want to tell you something, I'm not sure how to say this, but You, your father, Aaron and I, we are all connected. The things we do individually, affect the family as a while...."
"Are you trying to tell me that if I permed my hair with tongue depressors over rollers, I will not find a mate and continue to be a burden on you and the family?" I interrupted.
"Well, it could lead to that....."
I stopped listening after that. It was hard enough for me to already admit to myself that I needed to humble myself and grow my hair out to better my chances. How much more of my personality will I have to strip to find someone to love me? And is it really me that they would be falling in love with, or what I have made myself to be in order to catch them?
Friday, January 07, 2005
Not Much Ado About Something
My New Year's "Celebration" was so momentus that I almost forgot to mention it. My plans went from fun to boring. I had heard that Lavay Smith and the Red Hot Skillet Lickers would be at the USS Hornet in Alameda. I went to the USS Hornet for the first time, earlier this year with my friend Teri. We saw the Glenn Miller Orchestra there. But that idea was crushed when I found out how much the tickets were. My brother, Aaron and his wife Kari would also be in town from Utah for the evening, so I knew my presence would be requested at home for at least part of the evening. Teri wanted to go to San Francisco anyway to go to one of the Salsa Clubs there. I would have enjoyed that, but then I couldn't be home with the family. So, Teri and I were going to go somewhere local to do dancing and I would be home for the earlier part of the evening.
Instead, I got a call from Comfort Keepers to discuss the plans for me to spend the evening with the same lovely woman who asked me to leave a couple of nights ago. What the?! Why does no one fill me in on these things? I wish they would give me a little more notice than, "Can you please go to this person's house ASAP? Nevermind, that we knew about this 3 days ago. We forgot to get someone and they just called and there is no one there. Can you please fill in for us?"
My boss said that Francis' daughter actually reqested me because he told her how good I am. I figured she might have thought otherwise considering that Francis asked me to leave last time. After I tell him I will do it, I learn that they already had someone else lined up and now he has to cancel them. I think Francis might not be the only person who is insane. Myself included.
So, my evening was spent having dinner with and visiting with Francis. Our conversations rotated between we are in your daughter's house, your daughter is with her husband at some friends' house, I am just here to watch the house, I don't mind that they didn't invite us to come along because I don't know anyone at the party anyway; besides they will be out late, there is a room for you to sleep in when you get tired, yes the dog has been fed canned food, yes we have met before, yes you do own a home in Cameron Park, and my name is [Trixie].
I brought some knitting with me and brought it out. She was reminded of a time when she was a young girl and they would sit around the fire at night and she would work on her knitting. Sometimes she would stay up late to finish a project. They would knit while listening to the radio programs. And she mentioned how sometimes they had to put out the lights because of the air raids over head. This was in England during the WWII. She also told me about this cardigan sweater that she knitted for herself with a dragon on each side and how she always got compliments on it. I bet it was lovely. She really was a nice lady, just confused. She has a charming English accent that I got a kick out of.
She eventualy went to bed after I suggested it for the fith time. I brought in the New Year alone, watching Napoleon Dynamite and Love Actually. The only piece of something sweet in the house to be found was some carmel corn with chocolate drizzled on it. I didn't even bother to turn to the TV to watch the countdown. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.......
Instead, I got a call from Comfort Keepers to discuss the plans for me to spend the evening with the same lovely woman who asked me to leave a couple of nights ago. What the?! Why does no one fill me in on these things? I wish they would give me a little more notice than, "Can you please go to this person's house ASAP? Nevermind, that we knew about this 3 days ago. We forgot to get someone and they just called and there is no one there. Can you please fill in for us?"
My boss said that Francis' daughter actually reqested me because he told her how good I am. I figured she might have thought otherwise considering that Francis asked me to leave last time. After I tell him I will do it, I learn that they already had someone else lined up and now he has to cancel them. I think Francis might not be the only person who is insane. Myself included.
So, my evening was spent having dinner with and visiting with Francis. Our conversations rotated between we are in your daughter's house, your daughter is with her husband at some friends' house, I am just here to watch the house, I don't mind that they didn't invite us to come along because I don't know anyone at the party anyway; besides they will be out late, there is a room for you to sleep in when you get tired, yes the dog has been fed canned food, yes we have met before, yes you do own a home in Cameron Park, and my name is [Trixie].
I brought some knitting with me and brought it out. She was reminded of a time when she was a young girl and they would sit around the fire at night and she would work on her knitting. Sometimes she would stay up late to finish a project. They would knit while listening to the radio programs. And she mentioned how sometimes they had to put out the lights because of the air raids over head. This was in England during the WWII. She also told me about this cardigan sweater that she knitted for herself with a dragon on each side and how she always got compliments on it. I bet it was lovely. She really was a nice lady, just confused. She has a charming English accent that I got a kick out of.
She eventualy went to bed after I suggested it for the fith time. I brought in the New Year alone, watching Napoleon Dynamite and Love Actually. The only piece of something sweet in the house to be found was some carmel corn with chocolate drizzled on it. I didn't even bother to turn to the TV to watch the countdown. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.......
Another Awkward Moment as a Caretaker of the Elderly
Two times a week I visit an Elderly man, who had a stroke a few months back. He and his wife, Evelyn live in an assisted living retirement home. They moved here from Florida to be near their two daughters who take time out to visit and support them. They asked me to come over to help him in the shower, massage his legs, help him dress, walk with him in the halls of the building and take him for a ride in his wheel chair, when the weather permits.
He is the first man that I have helped in the shower, so it has been a new experience for me. I use the brush for his back and legs. I let him keep his dignity (and mine), by letting him wash the pits, cracks and privates. I am more comfortable about it than I was to start. It's sort of a strange situation when considering the circumstances. "Hello my name is [Trixie]. I am going to be seeing you naked and I'll be massaging your legs and we will be spending a lot of time together. Nevermind that I am 1/3 your age, we will be great friends. So, shall we get started?"
I never would have been able to do that a few years ago. I still amaze myself that I can do it now. I know that my mission helped me tremendously to expand my comfort zone. I think being a mother also helps me get past some of the dirty work and keeping my sence of humor about it all. It's interesting that here I am working with the people that lived in the era that I admire most. A companion of mine gave me the nic name Trixie Granny. It's appropriate because I love all things vintage. I even enjoy doing old people activities like knitting, sewing and swing dancing. Plus I have what might be considered "old fashioned" values.
Anway, that was just a side note. I wanted to tell about what happened to me this week as I was helping Leslie out. He takes his walker from the bathroom to the bedroom while I hold the towel around his waist. He sits in this easy chair to get dressed and where I give him his massage. I helped him with his shirt first. Then he stands again to get his underwear on. I used to let him pull his underwear up himself, but I guess I have gotten brave enough to do it for him because he can barely keep himself standing while holding on to his walker. I stand to his rear and to the side as I am pulling them up. I just made sure I hold it out in front to catch everything in front. I wait to put his pants on until after his massage. So, I come around to the front after he sits down again to start on his legs and what's this? Oh no! The head of his penis is poking out from his underwear! I slyly put the towel over his lap and said it's to keep him from getting a chill. But, what does he do? He starts inching the towel up his lap so that it's no longer covering him. Does he realize that he's hanging out? Does he want me to see it? Here I am kneeling on the floor massaging his legs and here's this penis head staring at me, no matter how hard I try to avoid looking at it, it's as if it is glowing from the corner of my eyes. That was probably the least effective massage he has received.
He is the first man that I have helped in the shower, so it has been a new experience for me. I use the brush for his back and legs. I let him keep his dignity (and mine), by letting him wash the pits, cracks and privates. I am more comfortable about it than I was to start. It's sort of a strange situation when considering the circumstances. "Hello my name is [Trixie]. I am going to be seeing you naked and I'll be massaging your legs and we will be spending a lot of time together. Nevermind that I am 1/3 your age, we will be great friends. So, shall we get started?"
I never would have been able to do that a few years ago. I still amaze myself that I can do it now. I know that my mission helped me tremendously to expand my comfort zone. I think being a mother also helps me get past some of the dirty work and keeping my sence of humor about it all. It's interesting that here I am working with the people that lived in the era that I admire most. A companion of mine gave me the nic name Trixie Granny. It's appropriate because I love all things vintage. I even enjoy doing old people activities like knitting, sewing and swing dancing. Plus I have what might be considered "old fashioned" values.
Anway, that was just a side note. I wanted to tell about what happened to me this week as I was helping Leslie out. He takes his walker from the bathroom to the bedroom while I hold the towel around his waist. He sits in this easy chair to get dressed and where I give him his massage. I helped him with his shirt first. Then he stands again to get his underwear on. I used to let him pull his underwear up himself, but I guess I have gotten brave enough to do it for him because he can barely keep himself standing while holding on to his walker. I stand to his rear and to the side as I am pulling them up. I just made sure I hold it out in front to catch everything in front. I wait to put his pants on until after his massage. So, I come around to the front after he sits down again to start on his legs and what's this? Oh no! The head of his penis is poking out from his underwear! I slyly put the towel over his lap and said it's to keep him from getting a chill. But, what does he do? He starts inching the towel up his lap so that it's no longer covering him. Does he realize that he's hanging out? Does he want me to see it? Here I am kneeling on the floor massaging his legs and here's this penis head staring at me, no matter how hard I try to avoid looking at it, it's as if it is glowing from the corner of my eyes. That was probably the least effective massage he has received.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
A Day at the Temple
I decided yesterday that I would take advantage of being off today and go to the temple. I haven't been in a while. I would have liked to go with the ward, but I can't handle another one of those all-nighters. I am worthless the next day. I enjoy going by myself more than with a group, I think. I can have more time to myself in the Celestial room, plus I like to take a little time to do either Iniciatories or Sealings. I tried to get in to do some Initiatories, but they were booked, quite unusuall, so I got a chance to do some sealings afterwards.
I feel like my answer was the same one He has been trying to tell me for the last year or two. That is that, again I need to surrender my concern to Him. It is out of my control. He will take care of it. I have done all that I can, and now it's time for me to let go and let Him work his magic. In other words, I need to have faith. Faith that He has not forgotten me. Faith that as long as I am doing my best with what I have been given, I will receive the blessings that are due, whatever they may be. Do I sound convinced? It may take me some time, but I will try my best to have patience and faith in the matter.
As I mentioned, I got to help out with some sealings after the session. There were two couples among the group. One of the couples had only been married for two weeks. So, lucky me, I got to be sealed as a daughter to them. They were so gitty. They each had perma-grins on their faces. My impules fluxed from laughter to vomit to tears. Fortunantly none of them were made manifest, instead I held a smirk. I was and happy for them and I hope todo the same some day and make the people around me just as sick with my own child-like excitement.
I feel like my answer was the same one He has been trying to tell me for the last year or two. That is that, again I need to surrender my concern to Him. It is out of my control. He will take care of it. I have done all that I can, and now it's time for me to let go and let Him work his magic. In other words, I need to have faith. Faith that He has not forgotten me. Faith that as long as I am doing my best with what I have been given, I will receive the blessings that are due, whatever they may be. Do I sound convinced? It may take me some time, but I will try my best to have patience and faith in the matter.
As I mentioned, I got to help out with some sealings after the session. There were two couples among the group. One of the couples had only been married for two weeks. So, lucky me, I got to be sealed as a daughter to them. They were so gitty. They each had perma-grins on their faces. My impules fluxed from laughter to vomit to tears. Fortunantly none of them were made manifest, instead I held a smirk. I was and happy for them and I hope todo the same some day and make the people around me just as sick with my own child-like excitement.
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