Easter Hair

So I just did my hair (and nails) and I am amazed at how much less mess just doing your highlights is . . .

Jennifer (my hairstylist) had stripped out pieces and then dyed them purple . . . which immediately washed out with the first shampoo. So I had brown streaks for a while. And I'm sick of brown streaks. So for Easter, I found some purpley stuff at Noir (called "Burgundy Wine") and kinda painted/mushed some on the brown spots.

Voila! Easter hair.

Not really school appropriate . . . but what the hay, there are a lot of things going on there. And no one seems to notice my hair, except the students. Will probably dye it all black if we have parent teacher conferences or something. But I can do that myself with some other temporary stuff. So now I have purple . . . well, red violet, spots. And my bathroom does not look like anyone was killed. So definitely going with the one skunk stripe for summer. Fun hair. Less mess. Everyone wins!

And yes, I promise to have pictures. Did you not just read the last entry?

Tired of Being the Project

In a conversation about how I've stopped looking for a significant other for the moment. . .

"Well, maybe you have to take some time. You know, to work on yourself. Get right with yourself."

And my first step? To getting "right with myself"? To finding "inner peace" before I "share it with others".

Not talking to that guy anymore.

Check.

Before you get all uppity with the comments, I have plenty of inner peace. I'm just not choosing to share it right at this time. It was a "pot talking to very expensive espresso machine about her perceived blackness" moment. And my first step is to not take advice from tea kettles anymore.

Expectations

Ahhh . . . summer.

Remember when I signed up for all those classes? Cause I needed to have "structured time". Yeah. Remind me to NOT do that next year. Actually, remind me to just sign up for Pilate's . . . and something where I can cut things, sculpture, cooking, welding. I need more burning and cutting. More hands-on. More something.

This has turned into the summer of "well . . . that wasn't as good as I expected . . . " And that is not entirely true. Riding my bike to Royal Oak and just wandering around, talking to the ladies at the yarn store about knitting a ball gag ("the hardest part is finding the right ball")(and they brought it up . . . no, really). Fun. Pilate's at the Y? Fun. My instructor is like the Sandra Bullock of torturous positions and I love her. Always in pink. Always with a smile on her face. She is what I want to be in my next life, should I not end up a border collie.

But in the category of "well . . . that wasn't as good as I expected . . . ", in no particular order: going to concerts spontaneously and finding they are sold out, my web design class, belly dancing, having blue hair

My web design class? I have learned absolutely nothing. And I would like to say that it was me . . . that education is what you put into it . . . but today, I did what he said and designed the site in photoshop first and not only could he not verbalize how I should start, HE COULDN'T MAKE THE PAGE EITHER. This was seriously frustrating. So I'm not feeling all that bad about missing the last class to go see Travis. I should feel bad. I won't.

Belly dancing was cancelled last week . . . by my instructor, who I think was doing the "I'm really sick . . . cough, cough, really really sick with a . . um. . . respiratory infection" and I was relieved. Belly dancing has turned out to be watching a white girl dance in front of a mirror. And that white girl isn't me. She doesn't teach us steps. She does show us steps but usually insists that we do them at the same time. And then she looks at herself in the mirror. One would think she would maybe make adjustments, so we don't look like walruses trying to stand on our tails and belly dance. However, it's the Y . . . so I should just get over it. It's an excuse to jump around for an hour. But I kinda wanted to learn how to belly dance.

And although it is fascinating to walk around the mall and be mistaken by four year olds for the tooth fairy, well, I'm a little tired of people giving me shit about my hair. It seems to be an inconvenience for my family . . . and let's face it, I'm just not all that weird. So when I'm in a dress and heels at the bar there is dissonance. And granted, I LIKE dissonance. But I also like to be liked a certain amount. So the blue hair may go sooner rather than later. My mother and father will be overjoyed with this news, because evidently, I am hard to be seen with. Who knew it would be a bigger deal than the red. People liked the red. And I do have someone come up to me everyday and compliment my hair, just like with the red. Maybe it's that I don't like the blue as much as the red. Mom suggested that I put red over and see if I get purple. Which may happen later this week.

However, I cooked today . . . which for the first time in my life I am finding more fun. Now if my family would just shut up about how bad I am at it . . . cause I'm not. I think they just have too high a standard. Or just like to give me shit.

And who knew that sewing machine could be so fun? That way exceeded my expectations. Oh, and pretzel sticks and peanut butter. That too.

Resolution

This year I promise that I will use denial more. For example, I didn't see RB last night . . . I just thought I did. It was some guy that looked like RB, with a bad haircut. But it wasn't RB. The mind, it plays tricks on you. (Thank you, Princess, for this wonderful life strategy.)

I promise to go to the Y and sweat for a least a half an hour, every other day, in an attempt to not punch anyone in the face. If there is sweating then there is less urge to hurt someone when they are being dumb. And I will try not to ogle at the cute boys.

I will try to not be such a smartypants . . . or if that is not possible, I will try not to be such an overt smartypants. There are times that it would be better if I kept my mouth shut. And maybe smiled.

I will try to make more art. I have been a little light on the creative side for a couple of years. Will try to make a painting. Will do more photography. Will really push myself on the jewelry.

I think I need to think more about what is a need and what is a want. I really want a boyfriend . . . but don't really need one. Same with soy lattes. And clothes. I don't need any more clothes. Or CDs. So yeah, think about wants versus needs before whining. Or doing things. Or buying things.

I want to learn to snowboard (I know that I just said that I would think about wants versus needs, but this doesn't count) . . . so I'm going to learn to snowboard this year. If it ever snows. I will wear a helmet and try not to break anything else.

I want to go back to Europe, although Princess just backed out of Italy. I didn't really want to go to the Vatican anyhow. So see if someone wants to go to Prague (or someplace) with me and my sister . . . cause Mere and I can only handle each other for three days.

I will try to go to an art museum at least once a month . . . and be more active in the art community. Maybe volunteer at the MOCAD. If they will have me.

And I need to save more. And not think that people are dumb, cause sometimes they surprise you. And have more of a poker face, in all respects.

There you go . . . what I'm going to do in 2007.

Lack of Plan or Secret Plan

My mother . . . she always has a plan . . . but sometimes (meaning a lot of the time) she doesn't communicate that plan. So my siblings and I will call, and ask for the plan, only to be told that there is "no plan". Which is soooo not the truth. Sometimes, the plan just isn't ready to be shared.

So I'm having a "plan" theme. Because of the lack of plan . . . the plan void . . . in my life. (Again, keeping in mind, there is always a plan. It's just not communicated) In fact, I even made a category. Cause, damnit, I think I need a plan.

Tonight, the plan is wine and taquitos. Not a good plan, but perhaps tasty. It's Christmas. Nothing's open and everyone is with their family. My siblings have abandoned me, so I will drink with Mr. Crabbypants.

Tomorrow, the plan is sales during the day. I love the rioting, the noise, the shoving and the pulling. I love being plugged into my ipod and people watching. Plus, I want a new cashmere sweater . . . and they should be on super sale at Lord and Taylor. Evidently, in the evening Luna is having Depeche Mode video appreciation night. So have to talk Princess into going to that.

Wednesday, there is pulling everything out of the dining room . . . which I am currently using as a storage room for things like my drill . . . and multiple toolboxes. I would like it to be a real dining room. With, like, a table and chairs and stuff. So there will be a "Kilz high" this week. And maybe going to Ikea to buy lighting. Very exciting.

In amongst this, I need to finish some knitting projects . . . and knit a hat for someone. Complicated but homemade seems like the best option. With the disclaimer that it didn't take long to make. And I have to find that damn book. And E1 is home and M1, so maybe some going out with them.

Thursday, picking colors. Hopefully. Want a shelf all the way around the room, with one color above and white below. Might just go with a simple wood shelf from Ikea, rather than making one, because it will be easier and I can cut them. We'll see. Am totally up for partying like a rock star, but did that on the 23rd, so could be over it too.

Friday is Mustard Plug. Saturday is hopefully recovering from the fun of Mustard Plug.

I'm ignoring Sunday . . . hate New Year's Eve and the build up. Oh, and I've decided that I have way too much stuff. So giving stuff away is part of the agenda.

Okay, Mr. Crabbypants is watching some dull plane show . . . have to go admonish.

The Plan

My sister just called for "the Plan" . . . and she's on the road from K-zoo, so won't be able to see it.

Here it is, from this moment forward:

Charge i-pod.
Charge phone.
Think about if I have any other random electronic devices to charge.
Brush teeth.
Curl eyelashes.
Put on make-up . . . but probably just mascara.
Wrap at least two presents.
Just frustrated with wrapping.
Put on shoes.
Find jacket.
Look outside.
Wonder if I can switch cars, or if the Neon will get stuck in the mud.
Go for it and switch cars.
Go get coffee.
Wonder why everyone has to be at Starbucks when I want to be at Starbucks.
Buy book for Mere. (Amy Sedaris, "I like you" . . . shhh, don't tell.)
Go to Pitaya and look at shirts.
Leave before two hour free parking is up.
Go to Target and get photos printed.
Get disgusted with Target photo department.
Leave.
Go to Costco.
Marvel at how busy Costco is.
Get photos printed.
Come home.
Put photos in frames.
Wrap frames.
Get angry phone call from mother because I didn't go to Stately Wayne Manor.
Consider going to Stately Wayne Manor to paint cookies.

That takes me to 7 pm or so. Will let you know after that.