It's been a few weeks since the hair cut. I finally shipped my hair to be made into a wig, and I am getting use to my hair. Its still not my favorite. But the short hair is turning more into a symbol for me than anything else. I gave apart of myself to someone else. I gave some of my happiness to someone else who needs it (or at least eventually). And short hair or not, that is more than I can ask for in my life.
All I ever want is for everyone to be happy, we all have that right. Not to get all political, but when I say everyone, I mean the people who love others, that are just trying to be happy, love their families, and exist. Over seas, all the women, men, and children who just want to live their lives are being stripped of their right. And it does not sit well with me. It should not sit well with anyone. How did I get to be born here, with all the possibilities at my fingertips, and someone else was born in a country where basic human rights are stripped from them before they have the chance to explore?
I have all these thoughts about others, but come to a roadblock, what can I do about it? I can talk about it, I can voice my opinion (freely I might add), but outside of that, what can I do? I volunteer, I help people here, but it seems not enough.
This is a common struggle in my mind- and I am sure will continue... but thats life, finding how I can make a difference in this big world we live in.
Deep thoughts for this Friday.... Maybe more to come later.
Peace, Love, and bigger than myself,
b
Friday, September 13, 2013
Monday, September 2, 2013
Devil with Flowered Hair Scissors
Let me start this off by saying I did a great thing today. I have been growing my hair out for the past 9 months to donate to Beautiful Lengths, a charity that makes wigs for cancer patients. I needed to grow 8 inches or more of hair from the top of a poney tail holder. Yesterday morning, I got out of the shower, asked Trevor to measure, and finally, I had enough hair. What great timing, my mom is in town, and it could have been a great memory to share...
Well... after all the trauma of yesterday, and a few tears shed, it is a memory.. but not all great.
Now heres what happend.... Cutting my hair yesterday was traumatizing, and caused by some 40 year old woman that might have well been the devil. I went to a salon up the street from my house, $35-$45 for a hair cut, depending on the length. It was a pretty fair price, so I decide to do it. I walked in, told the receptionist what I was doing, and asked if there were any openings. There were, she called the woman over, and off I went.
Well, now thinking about it, I should have stopped it right then and there. This woman looked like she just got out of the 1980's. Red lipstick, frizzy hair, horrible highlight job, and overall, she looked like a mess. Lesson #1, if they have horrible hair, do NOT let them touch yours. But, seeing as I did not want to judge a book by its cover, I went with it.
My hair got washed, and it was time. She pulled my hair back into a poney tail. Secured it with an elastic at he back of my head really tight. Picked up her scissors. Went to make the cut. I Jerked my head and said, 'WAIT. you have to pull the poney tail down. Its 8'' from ABOVE the poney tail.' She said oh, of course. Lesson #2, was she drunk? Did I not explain this? I should have never let someone near my hair that didn't listen to a word I had said near my hair. Again, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She pulled down the hair tie. I could not see how far, but figured, 'ok, I told her how I wanted it cut, I told her 8'', how can she mess up at this point?'
Oh, how wrong I was.
She cut. The damage was done. With 2 snips (yes 2, because her scissors were not thick enough she had to cut the wad of hair twice) of her small flowered scissors, she had destroyed my hair. There was plenty of hair for me to donate now... because she cut '11 inches off my hair, when I told her no more than '8. I freaked. Stood out of the chair. Looked at her, and said, 'THIS IS NOT WHAT I HAD TOLD YOU'.
She told me I was in shock. I wanted to slap her. Yes, cutting off that much hair is a big change, but I was prepared. What she did was put my hair into a lawn mower and turned it on. She said, 'You have done a great thing.' I told her I knew that. I wanted to slap her. The damage was done. There was no turning back at that point. I walked around the salon, trying to regain composure. No luck. I wanted to slap her, but there was nothing I could do. The hair cut had to be finished.
So, I stayed in the chair and let the disaster begin. She kept cutting. With every snip of her flowered scissors I wanted to slap her even more. I have never been the type of person to get upset by a hair cut. It's only hair, it grows back. Its not like I ever had one stylist that I would let touch my hair. I figured, i had enough of it, it'll grow back. I guess up until now, I have never had a bad hair cut.
I told her no shorter. I told her to keep the bottom at my shoulders and do what she could to save her disaster. She kept cutting. Told me she was layering. Layering my ass. After 10 minutes of her layering. I officially freaked out. I stood up midcut and told her to back off. To get away from me. I was pacing. This was not the emotional trauma I had signed up for. I sat back down and told her to finish as soon as possible, because I couldn't take it any more.... She was about to make another cut, and another stylist came in and saved me.
She asked to take over. She took me to her chair and told me she was going to do what she could do to save my haircut. Well, didn't that just make me feel like a million dollars? She was going to SAVE my hair, not finish the cut. great.
While all this was going on, my mom and Trevor were watching from the store front. Watching me freak out. Trying to help, be supportive, be positive, while the devil with scissors kept cutting.
In the end, everything is fine, of course. I donated more hair than I had thought, someone will get a great wig who deserves it. Someone will get to feel beautiful in a time when they need it. I feel good about that, giving part of myself to someone else. No matter the journey to get there, at least someone will get a smile out of today. Even me.... and I learned a valuable lesson. If their hair sucks, dont let them near yours.
Peace, Love, and short hair, dont care,
B
Well... after all the trauma of yesterday, and a few tears shed, it is a memory.. but not all great.
Now heres what happend.... Cutting my hair yesterday was traumatizing, and caused by some 40 year old woman that might have well been the devil. I went to a salon up the street from my house, $35-$45 for a hair cut, depending on the length. It was a pretty fair price, so I decide to do it. I walked in, told the receptionist what I was doing, and asked if there were any openings. There were, she called the woman over, and off I went.
Well, now thinking about it, I should have stopped it right then and there. This woman looked like she just got out of the 1980's. Red lipstick, frizzy hair, horrible highlight job, and overall, she looked like a mess. Lesson #1, if they have horrible hair, do NOT let them touch yours. But, seeing as I did not want to judge a book by its cover, I went with it.
My hair got washed, and it was time. She pulled my hair back into a poney tail. Secured it with an elastic at he back of my head really tight. Picked up her scissors. Went to make the cut. I Jerked my head and said, 'WAIT. you have to pull the poney tail down. Its 8'' from ABOVE the poney tail.' She said oh, of course. Lesson #2, was she drunk? Did I not explain this? I should have never let someone near my hair that didn't listen to a word I had said near my hair. Again, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She pulled down the hair tie. I could not see how far, but figured, 'ok, I told her how I wanted it cut, I told her 8'', how can she mess up at this point?'
Oh, how wrong I was.
She cut. The damage was done. With 2 snips (yes 2, because her scissors were not thick enough she had to cut the wad of hair twice) of her small flowered scissors, she had destroyed my hair. There was plenty of hair for me to donate now... because she cut '11 inches off my hair, when I told her no more than '8. I freaked. Stood out of the chair. Looked at her, and said, 'THIS IS NOT WHAT I HAD TOLD YOU'.
She told me I was in shock. I wanted to slap her. Yes, cutting off that much hair is a big change, but I was prepared. What she did was put my hair into a lawn mower and turned it on. She said, 'You have done a great thing.' I told her I knew that. I wanted to slap her. The damage was done. There was no turning back at that point. I walked around the salon, trying to regain composure. No luck. I wanted to slap her, but there was nothing I could do. The hair cut had to be finished.
So, I stayed in the chair and let the disaster begin. She kept cutting. With every snip of her flowered scissors I wanted to slap her even more. I have never been the type of person to get upset by a hair cut. It's only hair, it grows back. Its not like I ever had one stylist that I would let touch my hair. I figured, i had enough of it, it'll grow back. I guess up until now, I have never had a bad hair cut.
I told her no shorter. I told her to keep the bottom at my shoulders and do what she could to save her disaster. She kept cutting. Told me she was layering. Layering my ass. After 10 minutes of her layering. I officially freaked out. I stood up midcut and told her to back off. To get away from me. I was pacing. This was not the emotional trauma I had signed up for. I sat back down and told her to finish as soon as possible, because I couldn't take it any more.... She was about to make another cut, and another stylist came in and saved me.
She asked to take over. She took me to her chair and told me she was going to do what she could do to save my haircut. Well, didn't that just make me feel like a million dollars? She was going to SAVE my hair, not finish the cut. great.
While all this was going on, my mom and Trevor were watching from the store front. Watching me freak out. Trying to help, be supportive, be positive, while the devil with scissors kept cutting.
In the end, everything is fine, of course. I donated more hair than I had thought, someone will get a great wig who deserves it. Someone will get to feel beautiful in a time when they need it. I feel good about that, giving part of myself to someone else. No matter the journey to get there, at least someone will get a smile out of today. Even me.... and I learned a valuable lesson. If their hair sucks, dont let them near yours.
Peace, Love, and short hair, dont care,
B
Friday, August 23, 2013
Uplifting
This is what makes me want to do more for this world, just to help people:
http://inthecapital.streetwise.co/2013/08/22/teach-for-america-baltimore-intern-elijah-miles-delivers-inspiring-i-have-a-dream-speech-that-instantly-goes-viral-video/
http://inthecapital.streetwise.co/2013/08/22/teach-for-america-baltimore-intern-elijah-miles-delivers-inspiring-i-have-a-dream-speech-that-instantly-goes-viral-video/
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Rebel Impulses
I got my nose pierced yesterday. Something I have always wanted to have- and not going to try to justify reasons why, I just like it. Maybe for the same reason I just like the color green, or why I will only paint my nails certain colors: I just like it. Most likely, it will not stay for long, but it was the point of doing it.
Once, in college... I had my nose pierced. I made the decision right after winter break jr. year, went to the parlor, on my own before recruitment, and just did it. I didn't ask my parents, I just went, and I loved it. Casually, a few weeks later, I brought up the thought to my mom about thinking about getting my nose pierced, and the answer I got was, "If you get your nose pierced, you can pay for college on your own" After that comment I freaked out. They were coming to visit a few weeks later, so, the decision was made, I loved college more than the nose piercing, took it out, and no harm no foul. My parents never needed to know.
Until I told them a few years later. Got a good laugh about how much pressure I have always put on myself, and for the most part, have been an easy kid.
Yesterday afternoon, I made the decision that I wanted it again, and you know what, I went, did it, and don't regret it for a second. Here's why:
1) I proved to myself I could do it. I am in control of myself, and if there is something I want, no one, and nothing can stop me
2) Finally, I did something that not everyone agreed with, and I don't care what they think
3) And last but not least, I did this for me. Maybe to feel a little but of pain, or to feel a little alive. But this year, for the most part, has been hard from a personal standpoint. At some point, we all have to be selfish, do something for ourselves, no matter what that is (within constrain of physical harm, of course)- and not think, just do.
And thats what I did. My parents hate it, disagree with it, whatever. T supports it, people at work are mixed. But overall, I did it, I support myself- and what other people think... honestly, don't care.
Peace, Love, and the little rebel inside all of us,
B
Once, in college... I had my nose pierced. I made the decision right after winter break jr. year, went to the parlor, on my own before recruitment, and just did it. I didn't ask my parents, I just went, and I loved it. Casually, a few weeks later, I brought up the thought to my mom about thinking about getting my nose pierced, and the answer I got was, "If you get your nose pierced, you can pay for college on your own" After that comment I freaked out. They were coming to visit a few weeks later, so, the decision was made, I loved college more than the nose piercing, took it out, and no harm no foul. My parents never needed to know.
Until I told them a few years later. Got a good laugh about how much pressure I have always put on myself, and for the most part, have been an easy kid.
Yesterday afternoon, I made the decision that I wanted it again, and you know what, I went, did it, and don't regret it for a second. Here's why:
1) I proved to myself I could do it. I am in control of myself, and if there is something I want, no one, and nothing can stop me
2) Finally, I did something that not everyone agreed with, and I don't care what they think
3) And last but not least, I did this for me. Maybe to feel a little but of pain, or to feel a little alive. But this year, for the most part, has been hard from a personal standpoint. At some point, we all have to be selfish, do something for ourselves, no matter what that is (within constrain of physical harm, of course)- and not think, just do.
And thats what I did. My parents hate it, disagree with it, whatever. T supports it, people at work are mixed. But overall, I did it, I support myself- and what other people think... honestly, don't care.
Peace, Love, and the little rebel inside all of us,
B
Monday, August 19, 2013
Bread with a side of Smile
This weekend was great. I went out to New Jersey and spent some time with a friend from college. She made sure to show me the best parts of New Jersey, the tax free shopping, and the once a year local wine festival near her house. Saturday was a good day. Finally, I was over my cold, and back to feeling like a normal human being. I am also on the last stretch of a countdown- T is coming home this week! He has been on his European adventure, leaving me to explore a few things around the city. And Sunday, I will say, was the best exploration I have done on my own since moving to NYC.
Sunday was an eye opening day, a great day. I decided to sign up to volunteer at a church that gives meals every sunday to homeless people, or just people in need. It has been a long time since I've done something for someone else. I use to tutor in Atlanta some weekends, and I loved it. Not sure why I ever stopped, life got in the way, and time just slipped by. Anyways, Sunday was amazing. Got to the church early, and right away, started wrapping napkins with spoons and forks in them. Then, the real work started. I was in charge of putting the bread, the last and final touch of the meal, onto the tray, and then handing the tray to the guest. Although it sounds like a small job, it was a
a lot of work, and the entire time, I had a huge grin on my face. I wanted every guest that received a meal, to get it from someone with a smile.
And thats all it took, a smile at one of them, and in return, I would hear a 'g-d bless' most of the time, or my favorite, just a smile back. The power of a grin is endless in my mind. I met a woman, who had severe arthritis in her knees, could barely walk to the bathroom. She asked for some help to carry her bags across the room to the bathroom. I took her hand, and walked with her for a 20 minute walk, that would take a fully able person 3 minutes to walk. On our walk, we chatted about where she is from, and what was wrong with her body. It was easy to see that she was in pain. It hurt her to walk, and there was nothing I could do about that. We got to the bathroom, she had me place her bag outside the stall, she looked at me and said, 'I got it from here. Thank you" she gave me the slightest grin, and she continued into the stall. The whole 20 minutes we walked, she did not once smile, until the end. Behind the smile, I could see the pain- but the smile looked good on her.
I have never been a person who really loved volunteering with elderly people, or homeless people for that matter. This is my blog, and I can be honest. They have always made me uncomfortable. But from this weekend, I learned something valuable about myself. When I am put into a situation that might not be the easiest for me, my first reaction is to smile, and mask my nervousness. And from my experience this past weekend, I fell in love with helping. My next goal, help the elderly... it might sound funny, but the more I challenge myself, and pull myself out of my comfort zone, the happier I am.
Peace, Love, and always wanting more smiles,
b
Sunday was an eye opening day, a great day. I decided to sign up to volunteer at a church that gives meals every sunday to homeless people, or just people in need. It has been a long time since I've done something for someone else. I use to tutor in Atlanta some weekends, and I loved it. Not sure why I ever stopped, life got in the way, and time just slipped by. Anyways, Sunday was amazing. Got to the church early, and right away, started wrapping napkins with spoons and forks in them. Then, the real work started. I was in charge of putting the bread, the last and final touch of the meal, onto the tray, and then handing the tray to the guest. Although it sounds like a small job, it was a
a lot of work, and the entire time, I had a huge grin on my face. I wanted every guest that received a meal, to get it from someone with a smile.
And thats all it took, a smile at one of them, and in return, I would hear a 'g-d bless' most of the time, or my favorite, just a smile back. The power of a grin is endless in my mind. I met a woman, who had severe arthritis in her knees, could barely walk to the bathroom. She asked for some help to carry her bags across the room to the bathroom. I took her hand, and walked with her for a 20 minute walk, that would take a fully able person 3 minutes to walk. On our walk, we chatted about where she is from, and what was wrong with her body. It was easy to see that she was in pain. It hurt her to walk, and there was nothing I could do about that. We got to the bathroom, she had me place her bag outside the stall, she looked at me and said, 'I got it from here. Thank you" she gave me the slightest grin, and she continued into the stall. The whole 20 minutes we walked, she did not once smile, until the end. Behind the smile, I could see the pain- but the smile looked good on her.
I have never been a person who really loved volunteering with elderly people, or homeless people for that matter. This is my blog, and I can be honest. They have always made me uncomfortable. But from this weekend, I learned something valuable about myself. When I am put into a situation that might not be the easiest for me, my first reaction is to smile, and mask my nervousness. And from my experience this past weekend, I fell in love with helping. My next goal, help the elderly... it might sound funny, but the more I challenge myself, and pull myself out of my comfort zone, the happier I am.
Peace, Love, and always wanting more smiles,
b
Friday, August 16, 2013
No homemade chicken soup
Well.... I chickened out on the chicken soup. Literally. Again. 2 Nights in a row, I had the thought to make it, but then my sickness just took over. And laziness. Oops.
So last night, to get my soup fix, I bough one of the pre made soups from the store. I was very sadly disappointed. I wanted so bad for the soup to be good.... and it just wasn't. Never again will I do that. Even canned soup would have fulfilled my need for soup.
But on the bright side, I am feeling better. Have big plans for the weekend. Going out to NJ to visit a friend from college tomorrow, then volunteering at a homeless shelter on Sunday to serve a hot meal. Its about time for me to give something back. Do a little good for the world around me. Couldn't hurt my karma..... And any little bit of good vibes could come in handy, not only for me, but for my family.
Peace, Love, and just more love,
b
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Health Food
I watched a documentary last night about how eating natural foods, solid foods, and taking vitamins can help the human body reverse damage and illness. Part of me is still skeptical, but it just makes sense. We are what we eat, so if we are eating chemicals and toxins... then we will become chemicals and toxins.
That just makes me feel gross. Working out, and eating healthy is not enough. At least, not the 'healthy' eating I was doing before. My healthy consisted of trying to lose weight, so, low calorie. No real sugars, essentially, everything was processed. I would have salads, but with low fat dressing, filled with corn syrup.
Making a lifestyle change is something I am toying around with. Not just for only my benefit, but for my families benefit. Maybe if I make this change, my family will start to make the same change, and go on this adventure with me. And the more I think about it, its not that big of a change, and not even that expensive. But another question I ask myself, what is money compared to being healthy and happy? It does not even compare. I would rather be broke and happy, than rich and sad.
Wheels in my brain are churning... time to pop and multivitamin...
More to come.
Peace, Love, and making changes...
b
That just makes me feel gross. Working out, and eating healthy is not enough. At least, not the 'healthy' eating I was doing before. My healthy consisted of trying to lose weight, so, low calorie. No real sugars, essentially, everything was processed. I would have salads, but with low fat dressing, filled with corn syrup.
Making a lifestyle change is something I am toying around with. Not just for only my benefit, but for my families benefit. Maybe if I make this change, my family will start to make the same change, and go on this adventure with me. And the more I think about it, its not that big of a change, and not even that expensive. But another question I ask myself, what is money compared to being healthy and happy? It does not even compare. I would rather be broke and happy, than rich and sad.
Wheels in my brain are churning... time to pop and multivitamin...
More to come.
Peace, Love, and making changes...
b
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