an experiment in hairstyling
i currently hate the way that my hair was recently cut. perhaps this is my fault for living the boring life of having had the same-ish hair style for a better portion of my life (which is a result of not being rather fussy and/or because i've been incredibly lazy when it comes to getting ready)... but i have let the hairstylist play with my hair, and cut it in the way that she deems it needs to be cut.
this isn't the average hairstylist. she's loves cutting hair, she loves how she can apply her love for mathematics in the art of hair cutting. she's just another one of those crazy smart kids who went off and did something completely different.
anyways, the last time she played with my hair... i enjoyed the results.. it was extremely amusing, because all of a sudden i looked playfully like a 2nd grader (in my own mind) with this sexy fem cut in everyone else's mind. (i question the adultness of the hairstyle, because just like when i "play" with makeup, i still feel like a little kid... instead of any adultish person.) so i decided to go along with whatever she felt like doing to my hair recently.
needless to say, i hate it. basically on the premise that it requires work . i generally wake up with out much of a getting ready process. (i'm not the type who wakes up really early in order to "apply my face"... i am the type who will roll out of bed and continue on with my day.) actually doing my hair seems pointless, because it will never look good no matter how much time i put into it.
being completely ill of trying to make it look nice, i decided to test out a theory that it looks best when 'messy'. (ah, maybe the stylist wasn't doing a horrible thing after all) due to recent situations which left my hair in quite the messy, but cute state.
i went around all day without even brushing my long hair once.
i got compliments on how 'cute' my hair looked.
i'm continuing the rest of the time i have this hair cut, with perennial bed-head, just as my statement against those who try to get this fabulous messy look that i achieve in at least 5 hours of sleep. hooray.
--kel
4/09/2001
mary ann climbs a mountain
today i went to the mountains with josiah. it was a beautiful day...
sunny, shorts and sandals weather. living 40 miles from a national forest
(the red river gorge), it only seemed appropriate that i mark the first
beautiful day of the year by heading out into the mountains to hike.
i am not a hard core hiker. not by any stretch. i am more of the constant
smoker who likes to walk in the woods. my only "hiking" apparel consists
of a pair of boots first owned by my mother in 1975. but i think the
mountains rock... and in the national forest, there are plenty of yuppy
trails with markers and very little risk of serious exertion.
josiah on the other hand, is a hard core outdoors person. he owns multiple
pairs of shoes for a variety of outdoor activities. he climbs stuff and
likes to explore that which is not the trail.
so, we set out for the gorge. we drove around a bit, josiah was looking
for something to climb on and i was just loving the scenery. finally, we
stopped at this nice valley with a little creek and stuff. we wandered
around a bit.
then we saw a sign. a bright yellow sign. up the mountainside in the
woods. we're both big on reading and very curious. needless to say, we
had to read the sign. we climbed up the mountainside. it was a marker
marking the official edge of the daniel boone national forest.
well, that prompted us to decide to climb the mountain. what i thought
when we started climbing the mountain was that we were going to traipse up
the side of it until it turned into rocks.
we walked up the mountain... and up and up and up. we really started at
the very bottom. then we reached the point at which i thought the mountain
was no longer navigable, you know, where the top turns into crazy boulders
and you stop hiking and call it the top. when you consider the mountain as
climbed as it can be without sophisticated equipment and healthy lungs. i
suggested we pause so i could smoke a cigarette.
i was wrong.
at this point, i think i should clue you into as to how ill prepared i was
to rock climb. one, my outfit consisted of: a very small t shirt stating
that i am a cincinnati opera lover. no bra. a pair of boys shorts which
managed to cover my legs all the way to the knee and have enough pockets
not to need a purse. and sandals. procured from payless for ten dollars
last summer. okay for walking, not really for climbing. oh, and a bandana
to hold my mess of tangly curls out of the way. not even a ponytail. two,
i have never once in my life climbed onto anything which was not like a
counter top. i do not like the idea that if i were to fall down, there is
nothing for my butt to land on which is not below my feet. i do not climb.
three, as previously stated, i have no lung capacity. i don't exert
myself much. i am horribly out of shape. i am not strong. this does not
bother me.
yeah so, i climbed a mountain. seriously, i climbed up the side of a
mountain all the way to the top. despite the seriously foreboding mostly
vertical rock face near the top.
when i say that i climbed a mountain, i should probably say that josiah
yanked my sorry ass up a bunch of rocks. mostly, that's what happened. my
climbing consisted mostly of josiah scampering with ease up about five feet
and then anchoring himself so i could use his leg or hand or something to
pull myself up, or, in the more difficult parts, so he could grab my hand
and pull me up while i tried real hard to contribute more than color
commentary involving my fear of death.
we made it to the top. the very top. we were really seriously looking out
at the other mountaintops over the giant canyon of the gorge. regardless
as to how much help it took, no one tied a rope around my waist and yanked
me up there, i really did climb a mountain. and then i finally got to
smoke a cigarette (i carried out my butts)...
oh shit, you mean i have to go down the way i came up? yes, mary ann,
that's how we get back to the car. i am pleased to say that in the getting
back down, i was much more capable of helping myself (sliding on my ass and
screaming in terror). twice josiah had to stop me from sliding to my
death. okay, and at the end, he was kind enough to position himself
between two rocks so i could use him (stepping on his feet, sliding off his
legs, holding his hands) to assist my coming down. the hike down the
hillside after that did not seem nearly as horrible as coming up it had
been...
but the point is, today i went all the way up a mountain (with assistance).
it was neat. my wrists and ankles will never be the same, my arms and
legs are cut and bruised to shit. i did not break a single nail though
(and my polish came out virtually unharmed).
and i feel like i accomplished something. i climbed a mountain in sandals
with no bra. and i did not die.
-- mary ann
(i think that josiah should contribute his thoughts on this situation...)
4/08/2001
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