Your Hair is Stupid

My mom is not good at hair, and was terrible at doing others' hair, specifically mine. She would either put my hair in hot rollers and then brush the curl out until it was a massive, wavy ball of static, or she would brush it while I cried. I had very fine, tangly hair and  brushing it was never an enjoyable experience -- this was probably why I became interested in hair in the first place, to avoid tears. 

These are fucking terrible. All of them. Anytime.

My mom did know how to use hair-pins and bobby-pins though. I'll give her that. But I figured everything else out on my own. This isn't to say that my mom isn't feminine and all that, she is. She could do her hair just fine (though in limited variety), she just couldn't do others'. My sisters weren't much use either. They can both work it out when they want to, but I am better. They earned their varsity letters, I got my cosmetology license.

I understand that most people, did not spend their Saturday mornings as a child sitting on their beds with two mirrors and several combs teaching themselves how to French braid. I get that. However, I also am saddened by women everywhere who have never taken the time to learn how to do their hair in any way. It's as though they have never taken a single Saturday morning in their lives to figure out what to do with everything growing out of their heads. So they put it in claw. Then to make up for their complete ineptitude they spend time picking out "cute" hair clips. These clips continue to be popular because people continue to think hair is hard to do.

This isn't 1998, pulling your hair back with glittery butterfly clips isn't going to cut it if you want anyone, anywhere to respect you as an adult. You look like a child whose parents have unfortunately also not figured it out. It takes every fiber of my being to not pluck out hair clips when I see them on adult women. I just figure whatever they've go going on is definitely not being helped by that wretched clip. I do do this sometimes to friends and acquaintances, the recipients aren't ever welcoming, but it makes me feel like I've made the world a slightly more aesthetically pleasing place.


PROTIPS:

Ponytails should not require combing, nor should one have a multitude of clips to "smooth out the bumps" all over their head. Flip your head over, pull your hair back. Voila. It might not be perfect at first, but a ponytail should never take more than thirty seconds to do, if that. (Don't feed me any of that bullshit about having a different hair type, either.)

Braids are simple, unless you have absolutely no dexterity in your fingers. Three sections. Right over center. Left over (the new) center. Until it's done. BOOM.

Buns, of all varieties, no matter the hair type, are simple if you know the difference between hair-pins and bobby-pins. Just twist your hair around and pin it until it doesn't move, and you like it. If you do this enough, you'll figure what you're naturally inclined to do, and it will get easier. I promise.

This is a hair-pin - use this to hold hair to other hair.

This is a bobby-pin - use this to hold hair to your head.

Over It

I'm sitting in the common room in my hostel. This is the same hostel I stayed in when I visited San Francisco last November, but there's a big difference in staying for a few days on vacation, and staying for two weeks looking for and then waiting to move into an apartment. 

I thought spending two months living with my parents was bad, and then I came here. I've been sharing a room with five other people here, five. FIVE. And at least two of them change every other day. I think I've shared my room with at least thirteen different people in the past twelve days. 

People are terrible. They are the worst. They are loud, and they don't flush toilets, or wash their hands, and they take up so much space and don't seem to understand that by, "excuse me," I mean, "get the fuck out of the way." Isn't "excuse me" one of the first phrases everyone learns whenever they learn a new language? Perhaps I should try "excusez-moi" or "entschuldigung" instead. 

Then there are the people that live and work here. I know one of them as she and I shared a room when I was here before. And I don't mind them, it's just that I like having my shared room to myself when everyone else is out being a tourist, so I stay in it in the mornings only to be interrupted by the person who cleans the mirrors, and then the person who vacuums, and the person who cleans the sinks and then the person who comes round to check that those things have been done. 

This is no way to live. 

I'm amazed at my tolerance so far. 

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy being around people, when I have my own place to go home to. I'll talk to anyone, and I like most people when given the opportunity to talk to them individually. I hate having to introduce myself to someone new all the time. The other day someone called me "Judith" and I knew they were talking to me, but I didn't bother correcting them because why does is matter? I figured I'd never see them again. 

Wait, I take that back. I don't mind introducing myself to new people that are potential new friends - people who actually live here, too. That is something that I do like about San Francisco overall, the people are friendly and most aren't from here either. In that way it reminds me a lot of DC - but I won't go on about how much I miss DC. 

A friend reminded me this week that you suffer for the things you want. That's true, this is what I've wanted for the past two years, and I have it now. I may be living on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and oranges, but it'll be worth it, right? Right?

Going Home

I have moved...back in with my parents...

That is how much I wanted to get out of Richmond. That, and I'm planning on moving to San Francisco to finish school, and because it's awesome. Have you ever met someone from San Francisco  who you didn't like? I haven't. No one ever says, "Ugh, San Francisco, I never want to go back there."It's not Mississippi. 

It's certainly been a transition, one that I've been avoiding by not being home as much as possible. I moved Halloween weekend, in the sleet, with a migraine, so it more terrible than moving usually is -- never mind all the little things, the miscommunications, the lack of communication. It got done, and we all sat down for beef stew my mother made for everyone else because I don't eat beef, she had prepared the freezer and packed it with vegetarian lasagna.

The next 48 hours were spent mostly moping and reconsidering all of my life choices. 

Fortunately I had made plans to be in San Francisco the first week of November, my birthday is the 3rd and I really needed to be relax. Though my idea of relaxing usually just means avoiding people I don't want to talk to and keeping myself busy elsewhere, which is exactly what I did.

I'd arranged to meet with the admissions advisor at the school I will hopefully be attending, and let the few people I know there know I would be in town, but mostly I just wanted to explore. I had visited in the Spring of last year as well and I wanted to do the things I didn't get to do last time on this trip.

Anton, Karin, Me and Timon after lunch in Golden Gate Park.

After a very long and unnerving taxi ride into the city with a dead cell phone and a cabbie who didn't know how to use his GPS or speak English, I finally got to my hostel, cried, and fell asleep. The morning was much happier and after meeting a couple of my roommates and a couple of dudes at breakfast, four of us decided to rent bikes and make our way across the Golden Gate Bridge. I had not packed anything for this type of activity, and biking 22 miles in skinny black cotton pants was not my favorite thing, but it was well worth while. Now, the city is famously seven miles by seven miles, we had figured we had gone maybe 15 miles, and then we pulled up Google Maps and marked the multiple circles we had made on accident.

I had set up an appointment with the Admissions Advisor (AA) for the next morning and managed to find it without getting lost and made decent time walking. AA and I talked for almost two hours. TWO HOURS. I like to think that this is a good thing, though perhaps I totally blew it. She invited me to sit in on a class the next day, so I'm guessing I didn't blow it. The class was small maybe ten students, and everyone was actively engaged and supportive in offering constructive criticism of each others' work. I fell in love, as I knew I would, with everything -- the students, the teachers, the smallness of it all within such a large city -- it was perfect. The community created there was shat I should have looked for when applying to schools four years ago. If only I had been somewhere, or been exposed to anything. My parents wanted me close, and I have found close to be a miserable place. 

It was my birthday and I had spent most of it wandering around Chinatown after the class. I don't particularly like Chinatown, most of the things there creep me out, but some of the things are also entertaining. My favorite was definitely the "erotic art" that had been etched into various surfaces and shapes and molded into what I can only guess were bookmarks and paperweights. Though, I am no scholar of erotic artwork, so I'm probably wrong. However, shop keepers do not enjoy loiterers snapping photos of their wares to tweet. Erotic art is serious business. 

That evening I had dinner by myself at a tiny, dirty burger place that offered veggie options (I may not eat meat, but I eat veggie burgers all the time) before heading to The Mission to meet my one friend that was in town. He was out with two of his coworkers, and between the three of them my glass didn't get empty. We ended up hopping around until we went to a particularly terrible bar that was having some sort of electronic dance night, I think, I'm not completely sure, BUT there was dancing and I got to dance and my friend is an excellent dancer, and I could not have asked for a better birthday. (Thanks, guys!)

My last day was spent between bed and getting lost on the Embarcadero followed by wandering around downtown in a haze in an effort to make myself do anything aside from sleep.

The idea that I will be living there is one that I still haven't quite wrapped my head around. It's beautiful, and the urgency and support shared by everyone there is unlike anywhere I've been. I keep waking up and missing my studio in Richmond, and then I remind myself that I gave it up because I want so much more, and I'm going to have it, soon(ish).

GROSS!

A couple days ago I noticed a weird red spot on my back. It was slightly itchy, so I figured it was just a bug bite. Then it started to hurt yesterday and I thought it was a pimple so I kept putting acne goo on it. Then I made the mistake of asking my mom to look at it last night when I was home and she spent about ten mintues poking and proding it and I kept fidgeting - it was terrible. I get queasy over most things that have to do with my body.

So, I mentioned it to my sister this morning and then she looked at it. Freaked out and told me to go see a doctor, just to make sure it wasn't a staph infection. I spent the following twenty minutes looking at pictures of staph infections (you're welcome!).

"Are you sure you're going to be okay at the doctor's alone?" My sister has no faith in me. "Because you know, they lance it and then they squeeze it and rub a cotton swab in there..."

"Amanda, I'm happy to go with you... you really don't handle these things very well." My mom doesn't have any faith in me either.

I didn't have an appointment and they weren't able to see me, so I went to the emergency room at Fort Belvoir (because my dad's a retired Marine and I'm still on their insurance). There, a doctor did exactly what my mom did, but with needles. And I didn't scream. Or cry.

"I don't think it's staph, yet, it's probably just a boil, but we're gonna treat it for MRSA anyway." That's cool, I guess. "It still might get worse, but just see your primary physician if it does, but it's probably not a big deal."

Yep. Totally not a big deal. Or it could be. I'm not gonna worry about it.

All by Myself

The past two and a half months have been full of the changes I've wanted (mostly), in the best possible ways. First of all, I quit school and started working full-time. This was something I had been considering since the shitshow that happened this past November. I have never enjoyed school, the only reason I graduated from high school was because my test scores exempted me from most of my exams and I had teachers that were very generous in extending deadlines for me. I have never been motivated by grades, I couldn't care less about them, I wish I did, because I do value learning, just not in such a structured way. And certainly not about Byzantine art or the complexities of a pig's chest cavity.

Deciding to temporarily halt my education was not an easy decision. When it comes down to it though, there was nothing about it contributing to my happiness - it was a constant strain emotionally and monetarily. I couldn't enjoy basic social interactions without being reminded that I had a paper due the next day in addition to having to go to work. But I love my work, I look forward to it each day, I love interacting with my clients and knowing (or hoping) that I have the opportunity to make them feel slightly better, or at the very least look slightly better than they did before they sat in my chair.

I had already signed up for my classes for this semester before I decided not to go back to school. When I clicked the little arrow next to each class to drop them, part of me felt uneasy; school is what we're told we're supposed to do for as long as it takes to get us where we're told we need to go. And my parents had been paying my tuition. I withdrew before telling them and it wasn't until after several weeks of "classes" that I finally told them. They took it surprisingly well. They weren't angry, all they said was not to expect help financially save for occasional car maintenance. It was as though a huge weight had been lifted from our relationship, not that it's ever been the most healthy of relationships, but it's easier to talk to them now because school isn't an issue and I'm not relying on them financially.

Secondly, last year I wanted a boyfriend, or thought I did, but in retrospect I was just looking for an escape. I thought being a relationship would make me happy. I thought I was in love three times last year. That's stupid. So stupid, there are not words for how stupid that is. I wasted so much time talking to my girlfriends about whoever and why was he with her when he should be with me. God, it was fucking terrible. I cried so much. I already cry a lot, at well, most things, but last year it was definitely excessive. I was unhappy with where I was living and hated being at home and didn't ever feel like I could totally be myself. Since moving into my own place I feel like an entirely different person. And all that effort I put into thinking I thought I wanted a relationship, I've refocused and enjoy being at home, by myself. And frankly, I'm over dating in Richmond (and DC), it's boring. Boys, I'm not sorry, but you're boring.

I've found that in my time spent alone, with my phone turned off, a record playing and sitting and reflecting is more enjoyable than everything else. I enjoy going out, but I love going home and not having to still be on to interact with a roommate or their friends; to a bed that I don't have to share with pets or humans. The mess is my mess and there's no one to be clean for and there's no one else's mess to irritate me. Perhaps this sounds selfish, but everything I'm doing right now is in an effort to maintain this contentment. I don't need anyone or thing or class or job to screw that up. If something isn't contributing to my happiness, I've finally learned to have control and dismiss it.

The friends that I've made here are some of the best, and they're slowly moving away. I have one in DC (soon London) another in New York, another moving back to Norfolk, etc. It's seems appropriate for me to get things in order to move too.

Birthday Prep

Shit. It's been weeks since I've posted anything. Though, if you've followed my tweets you'll see that I have been busy bitching as usual about life's injustices, or my first-world inconveniences via my new Android. It is my new favorite thing. I've become one of those terrible people that are constantly playing with it. AND THE APPS. Let's talk about Tetris. I love that game. It's probably the only video game that I have ever been any good at, and I played it the other day until my battery died. It's been a week, and I use that phone literally all the time. What's the weather like? What time does the show start? What's the latest on NPR? It's all there. All the time. Literally at my fingertips. I know this isn't something new for most people that have any clue about technology, but I am so technologically inept that this thing continues to blow my mind.

Aside from my new toy, my life has gone like this: work/school, nap, work/school, food, internet/hulu, food, work/school, show, food, sleep, work/school, food, nap, etc.

There was a minor freakout a couple weeks ago, but those happen regularly as a result of my talking myself into thinking crazy things and then acting on those crazy though and it usually results in a really long email and/or series of phone calls. All is better now. Except for waking up in the middle of the night realizing that I had been talking in my sleep and may or may have not said silly/incriminating things. If I had been told that this sort of thing would happen while I was growing up instead of all those other silly things about not touching the opposite sex, I would be a very different person. But no one has told me about my sleep talking in years, so I haven't thought much about it. My first roommate used to try and tell me things that she had heard, but none of it really made sense. Thankfully I don't sleep walk. I can only imagine what world of trouble that would get me into.

Moving on to more important matters. My birthday is in exactly a month, November 3rd. I will finally be 21 and it will finally be legal for me drink adult beverages in public places. No good will come of this. In fact, I'm certain that it will only lead to more embarrassing tweets and text messages and probably at some point tears, and probably public nudity. So, friends, please be kind. Those that know me well already know all of these things about me and should not be at all surprised when I call them at three a.m. spouting off all the things I know about angler fish, or showing up on their porch with baked goods and an apology for my drunkenness. So, really, nothing is going to change, except now when I get IDed, I won't have to come up with an explanation as to why I don't have my ID. I have gotten really good at this, and the majority of my friends are of age/old(er) and this usually helps my case when I explain to the bouncer that my car got towed and I got pulled over last night and my license was left on the seat with the ticket and registration... I have learned to just avoid female bouncers/bartenders/waitresses because this stuff never works on them.

I make a really big deal about birthdays because no one ever made a big deal about my birthday. This isn't to say that I didn't have birthday parties because I did, every year, but I always planned them, wrote out the invitations and I'm pretty sure I started planning them so far in advance that my parents didn't have a chance to ask me what I wanted to do before I had given them a detailed list of what was supposed to happen. Then when I didn't do this, well, it's never been good. And my friends aren't much better, I love them, but they are all dispersed around the country, and even if they were all in one place, I'm pretty sure none of them know the others well enough to successfully coordinate anything.

And let's be honest, birthday parties are not the most happening of events. They just aren't. So, I've decided to keep it really small this year and only the people that I know would gladly hold my hair back as I puke all over the bathroom at Bamboo will be there (Anthea, Eleana, I'm looking at you). And while I don't really expect presents, I have compiled this list of things to plant seed into the subconscious of my friends and family, except my family doesn't read my blog most of the time, so I'll be emailing them this list repeatedly through December in hopes that maybe they'll get it right at Christmas.

My new phone is my early birthday present from my parents, and I'm quite surprised that they got it right. It's a Samsung Galaxy S, and I was sure that I would end up with some awful Motorola contraption that they considered good enough.

1. Cake. It's my birthday, I should not have to bake my own birthday cake (though I probably will). My favorite cakes are Pineapple with cream cheese frosting, and banana cakes with peanut butter frosting. Though, pumpkin flavored cake with cream cheese frosting is also delicious, and I know that Carytown Cupcake has these flavored cupcakes, so...

2. Other food. Dinner. Somewhere that's not Mexican of pizza oriented. Somewhere that has seafood is a plus.

3. Card. Inside should be a short, but personal message. Nothing says you don't care like a card that you bought and simply signed.
4. Necklace. I am constantly resisting buying them. I have a necklace that I wear all the time, but it's really because it's sentimental and has a story. It's not just an accessory, it should have some meaning. The one I currently wear was given to me for Christmas several years ago by my brother. He lives in San Sebastian in Spain and the design is that of the fences that go around the beach there. Apparently it's some sort of Basque Nationalist symbol, but I have never been there, so I'm not completely sure. But my point is, he gave it to me, I don't see him often, and it reminds me of him. I should like you well enough that I would be happy to wear a reminder of you. Anyway, I really like this, this and this. (The last one reminds me of the carousel scene in The Catcher in the Rye, and if I had the money I would have bought it for myself by now, but I am poor.) And I don't like gold things.

5. Vinyl. I have not bought nearly as much vinyl as I have wanted in the past year, and there have been so many great things that have come out. A mix CD is also a great alternative, though like the card, it should require some thought.

6. Concert ticket. Sharing a concert with someone is always special if you both really love the band.

7. Clothing. I will probably take it back. So gift card is probably better, but if you know my taste well enough and think I dress well, then give it a go. If you are my mother, you should be aware of my taste, but because you don't like it, please refrain from buying me clothes forever and always.

8. Hats. But not a baseball cap or a beanie, I like and collect vintage hats. Sure, I don't wear them often enough, but I love them. And on crappy days they're a pick-me-up, kind of like wearing my favorite heels with my pajamas because I can.

9. BOOZE. Buying me a drink is appreciated, but if you really love me you'll buy me a bottle of Jameson, or Maker's Mark, or maybe some expensive vodka that I've never had. Or Amaretto. Or Gin. Please do not buy me anything sweet tea related, I am over it, it only leads to terribleterrible things (like all the scars on my body from tubing).

This is a really reasonable list. I mean, I didn't even list shoes, or furniture, or trips, or shoes...

eight going on thirty

When I was in the second grade the majority of the girls in my class were getting their ears pierced or already had them pierced. I wanted so badly to be able to wear the same sparkly studs as the rest of them, but in my family we weren't allowed to get out ears pierced until we were sixteen. By the time I reached fourth grade I had started making "earrings" out of copper wire that I had taken out of hard drives my dad brought home from work. I would take them apart (and attempt to put them back together...) and keep the copper wire. I had a LOT of copper wire. And I would put beads on it, braid it, etc and wear it as earrings. At first glance you wouldn't notice that they were fake and when I lost one it was easy to replace.

Around the same time they started selling magnetic earrings at Claire's. I had several pairs, but they hurt my ears and the magnets eventually lost their pull and would fall off. These replaced the copper wire, and by the time I was done losing those I was no longer interested in piercing my ears.

By the time I was sixteen I was afraid of needles and the idea of sticking one ALL THE WAY THROUGH MY EAR LOBE did not sound at all appealing. Though, I still spent too much time ogling over earrings at various stores. They're pretty, but so not worth the trouble.

Lately I kind of feel like my life is this attitude repeating itself. I can finally do things, and they don't matter anymore. I suppose everyone goes through this at some point, but I can't help but think that I'm experiencing it early, just like every other part of my life.

I mean it's a Friday night, I don't have to be at work until one tomorrow afternoon and I'm staying in watching Sydney Poitier movies on TCM. I should be out, I should be getting drunk and going home with people I'm going to complain about in the morning. But I have a keyboard to play, and books to read and shitty poetry to write, and tomorrow I will make a delicious breakfast for friends. Actually, my life sounds pretty good.

America is Awake this Morning

Yesterday my roommate and I drove down to the train station to cast our ballots. For us, this was our "First Election" (it says so on my calendar) and luckily there wasn't a line; apparently they had all dissipated after the morning rush.

It was only a minute, but during that time I felt incredibly awake. Seeing Barack Obama and Joe Biden at the top of the ballot felt incredibly surreal. The time was finally there to vote!

Afterward, Jessica and I soaked in it. There was truly a sense of elation that came from that experience.

I have always thought that voting was important, but because I was previously underage and therefore not allowed to, I didn't quite understand how important. I do now.

Last night we started keeping watch on everything via the internet. Then I had to go do some radio station (www.wvcw.org) stuff and I ended up at Empire watching MSNBC on a projector above a bar. I cannot tell you how nervous I was. My body would not stop moving and Landis (who was with me) kept going on about what was "bothering me." Nothing was bothering me except the thought of the possiblity of McCain being president.

Unfortuneately around ten I had to head to Bagel Czar to some metal show to promote WVCW, but I really didn't do that and no one came anyway. Everyone was at a viewing party of some sort, of course! We were all checking CNN.com every five seconds. And at eleven I got a text from AJ, the first of exchanges between me and everyone over the Obama/Biden win!

At this poinst I was hysterical. I literally jumped up and down for about fifteen minutes. Everyone poured into the streets around campus. There were fireworks, carhorns, screaming, hugging, kissing, high fives, every form of introduction and affection could be seen. People expanded down Broad Street for about six to eight blocks. Intersections were closed down. Cops were everywhere (though, not really doing anything exceptin directing traffic).

Last night the only feelings present were those of love, beauty and unity. Never before have I experienced those feelings to that degree and with so many people.

America is forever changed by this election, and if last night was any indeication of the direction it's going, these next four years are going to be some of the most influential in histroy - not just for our government and country, but for our csociety and culture. Obama has sparked a tiny flame in us all to be better people, and that's change we can believe in.

forty days

Amanda is going to be eighteen in forty days and there is nothing her parents can do about it. absolutely nothing.

this means that she will be crashing at your house when she doesn't have a car to get into DC. just a heads up for everyone who lives closer to the metro than she does.

this also means she will be seeing all of the following:
the thermals or maria taylor on her birthday (november third guys)
bright eyes
georgie james
ted leo and the pharmacists
and others that she can't think of right now, but there are more, a lot more.