frivolities
I went and got my hair all fixed! Look:
So that's me a couple days ago. It looks like my hair's never met a comb before, or at least like I just got out of bed, but really it's like that almost all the time. I've unruly hair, and it's been bleached and dyed so often over the past few years that its natural tendencies towards frizz and tangles are massively amplified. The light's pretty bad in this picture, so you can't tell that my hair's also suffering from a bad, cheap, boot-black dye job that's washed away unevenly in places so that parts are high-school goth colored, parts are reddish brown, parts are a sort of purple...
Here's another "before" picture, but from this morning. You can see the length better here, since it's acting slightly less ridiculous. This is a stupid face. (I may be congenitally unable to not look like a goofball when I smile.)
AND THEN I WENT TO THE HAIRDRESSER.
...Yeah. I don't know what that face is supposed to be, either.
YAY!! The length didn't change much; I only got it trimmed and evened up. And the color's changed (it's a very nice, even, darkdark reddish-brown now), but that's not something I think anyone will be able to tell from photobooth glamour shots of my head in low light. Mostly, I wanted to show off how sleek my hair always ends up looking-- at least for a day or so-- after I bother to go and get it cut professionally. It's smooth and shiny, too; they put special conditioner in it, and all this gel that somehow magically doesn't turn it into a middle-aged-office-lady hair-helmet the way gel always does when I try to use it on myself at home, and it gets blow-dried and I don't know what all. My mom is so happy, and my dad kept telling me I looked like "that one actress, you know," for several minutes before I realized he meant Catherine Zeta-Jones ("the one in that movie about Chicago, remember, she had hair like that and she was in jail..."). Who I do not resemble! But it was still a huge compliment! And I can't even remember the last time my mother said anything complimentary about my hair...well, that was actually complimentary, and not something about how at least it was all one length and not electric blue anymore or some backhanded bit about how I would have such nice hair if I only took better care of it. My sister likes it, too, and she is officially the Pretty Sister and the Fashionable Sister who is Up On The Trends, so!
(My brother and my dog wouldn't give a fuck if I got a buzzcut and grew a handlebar mustache. And I love 'em for it.)
Speaking of family, on Tuesday I went to my sister's high school show choir concert. It was all right, but the most impressive part was the student-arranged girls' chorus version of Radiohead's "Creep." (No, really. That happened.) Louise, my sister, has this beautiful, clear, strong alto that I can only attribute to a freak accident of genetics. That's been the other leaving-the-house highlight of a slow, uneventful week back in my slow, uneventful hometown.
(...SOMETHING NEEDS TO HAPPEN SOON.)
I think I'll spend tomorrow writing letters and watching movies. I sincerely hope you all are well. (Especially you. Yeah, you know who you are.)