Last Time, I Swear

Okay this is the last post about my stupid hair, I promise. I just wanted to say that part of the reason I decided to actually change my hair instead of just dealing with the bald-ish patch was because I felt like it was time to make a change anyway. It wasn't really something I had thought about in advance, but the morning of the day that I fucked up my hair I was reading my latest witch book and it made mention of ouroboros, which I had never even heard of until I watched Hemlock Grove and since then has turned up several times. Anyway, after I read that, I thought "Wait, I think I dreamed about a snake last night." I started trying to remember the dream I'd had and realized that not only was it about a snake, it was a snake that suddenly grew legs. Then a couple hours later I cut a big chunk out of my hair. If that's not The Powers' way of telling me to make a change, I don't know what is.

^Ouroboros symbolizes recreating yourself. Snakes in general tend to represent rebirth and transformation (shedding old skin). 

Good Enough

Well, the whole hair bleaching thing didn't go exactly as planned (huge surprise there, since basically nothing I do ever goes as planned) but it worked out okay, for the most part. I went over to the Rite Aid and bought a bleach kit (for anyone interested, Splat! is cruelty-free and available in drug stores. I did my research.), immediately came back, mixed it up, and put it on. I let it process for an hour. I had actually intended to leave it a little longer than that, but it started burning.....a lot. So I washed it out only to find a truly obnoxious yellow color. Like really, really yellow. Fortunately for my pride, and unfortunately for my finances, my massage client didn't show up last night. So no one outside of my immediate family actually saw it. Of course, the wise thing to do would have been to just deal with the yellow for a couple of days and then bleach it again. So, naturally, I got my sister to go back to Rite Aid and buy me another bleach kit, and bleached it again. I only left it on for half an hour the second time, because I became legitimately concerned that I was burning my skin off. Anyway, in the end I got a fairly decent shade of platinum blonde, a very sore scalp, and red patches all over the back of my neck.

 

Mandatory Makeover

It looks like (if things go as I hope they will) I will be blonde again, at least for a little while. This is not a decision I made in advance, it's a necessity. If you're not sure how that's possible, here let me explain. You see, I've been cutting my own hair for years. The idea of paying someone else to do it just seems absurd to me. Since I'm never going to be happy with it anyway, what difference does it really make? Lately, I've been cutting it with one of those straight razor type things that they sometimes use to do texturizing, or whatever. So far, I have liked my hair a lot better this way. However, I hadn't changed the blade in the razor for quite some time and it was starting to get really dull and difficult to use. So today when I decided to cut my hair I thought "I might as well go ahead and change the blade." Unfortunately, I had forgotten how much more efficient the razor is when it has a new blade. I took a big fucking chunk right out of the front of my hair. It looks totally ridiculous. I tried brushing the rest of my hair every which way to cover up the not-quite-bald-but-damn-close-to-it spot, to no avail. So I started wracking my brain for anything I could do to make it a little less obvious. The only thing that came to mind was bleaching my hair back to the white/blonde that I had a few years back. The idea being that if my hair and my scalp are nearly the same color people might not realize that my scalp is plainly visible. The problem is, I'm not sure how well the bleach is going to be able to get out the black dye that I've been using. So, we'll see what happens.

 

Whatever Works, I Guess

I have been in another of those slumps during which I can not seem to make myself get out of bed on time. However, this morning I was up and about at 5:00. Would you like to know how I managed this? Well it appears that the one things that will get me up and fully awake instantaneously is a yellow jacket stinging me in my sleep. Yes, a yellow jacket got in my bed while I was sleeping and stung me on the hand at 5am. Fucking bastards!

Well That Was Productive

Last night when I went to class I noticed immediately that the room I'm usually in was unusually empty. The only person there was some kid I had never seen before who was just sort of hanging around and obviously waiting for someone. This was weird because the kids' boxing class before my class always runs over by at least 5 minutes. I also noticed that there was some sort of large class going on in the back room which usually only has 2 or 3 guys. Also, my instructor was nowhere to be found. I waited around for about fifteen minutes, then I called my sister and asked her to check my email and make sure that class hadn't been cancelled. Nope, no email. So I just kept hanging around, wandering in the hallway, thinking that maybe he would show up. At 7:30 I finally said "fuck it" and went back to pick up my stuff. When I did, the kid (and by kid I mean like 11 years old) came over and asked me if I wanted to go into the class. I told him that I was just waiting for my instructor, but that I didn't think he was coming. The kid asked me what his name was and when I told him, he ran into the back and came out with my instructor. Apparently, they had some sort of seminar going on for all the guys who worked there, and someone was suppose to tell me.....and they didn't. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Why Not?

Every once in a while, I go on these weird semi-manic cleaning sprees. Anyone who knows me can tell you that most of the time I simply cannot tolerate housework. It just seems so fucking futile. You clean something and then the next day it looks like you never cleaned it. However, once in a while I suddenly decide that everything needs to be clean and straightened up. So the past couple of days, I've been cleaning out all of my old shit; throwing things away, packing up stuff to take to Goodwill, etc. Then today I decided to run the vacuum and realized that the carpet on the stairs was just never going to come clean. Since I've had some carpet removal experience recently I just said "Fuck it! I'm taking it up!"

But.......Why......?

The weirdest fucking thing happened to me today. I got a Facebook message from a guy saying that he was told to message me. When I asked him why, he said that some random guy told him that I was a model. Yeah, I know. So I check out the guys profile and it turns out that he is a photographer. So it at least (kind of) makes sense that he would be looking for a model. What I couldn't understand was why anyone would tell him that I was one or, for that matter, who the fuck was telling him anything about me. After six or seven messages, I finally determined that the guy who told him to message me was this guy who had been hitting on me on Facebook for a while. He seemed like an okay guy, so I wrote back and forth with him for quite some time. After a while though, I realized that our conversations simply weren't going anywhere, so I kind of just stopped writing back. I know that's probably not the best approach, but I just didn't really know what to say to him anymore. Anyway, at that point, he apparently decided that the best course of action would be to message a random photographer and tell him that I'm a model. What I still can't quite figure out is, was this him actually trying to help me out in some way that I don't understand? or did he just think it would be funny? or what the fuck was the motivation behind this?