I thought cutting off all my own hair, alone and by myself, while listening to Kesha’s “Praying” would be super therapeutic (and it was! For exactly 5 seconds), since the only other time I cut my own hair was in the middle of the night when I was 6, after which I promptly blamed my brother, so I never got to really bask in the glory of my work.
Newsflash: There is no glory. I look very very bad.
Turns out there is a reason hair dressers do this for you. One reason is that THEY KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THEY’RE DOING. Another reason is that they have a straight angle, and can therefore cut the hair evenly. As you can see in the haphazard-looking nubs above the hair bands, I did not accomplish this. It looks like someone cut my hair with a samurai sword.
The good news is that some child, through the nonprofit Children With Hair Loss, will receive a lovely 11-inch wig, which is a small price to pay for me looking like a gnome.
Now, Jose at Aveda Salon, you better hold on to your hat. Our appointment today will be more therapy than haircut.
#iwasonlysupposedtocut8inches #oops #shorthair
dontcarefreakingthefuckout #shorthairDONTDOTHISATHOME (oh, you would never do this at home, because you’re smart and rational? HOW NICE FOR YOU.)
While most reviews have been positive, I have read an overwhelming amount of critical commentary regarding Graham Moore’s Oscar acceptance speech, most saying that while it’s wonderful that he survived a suicide attempt and is now thriving, the Oscars stage was not the right time or place to talk about it.
Why? Because the whole world was listening?
Kudos to you, Graham Moore. There’s never a wrong time or place to fight stigma, celebrate strength, and instill hope.
I promise to stay weird. For you, for me, and for all the others out there who have seen the dark side.
Watch the speech here, in case you missed it.
As our class waited to enter the cafeteria, I showed a student a picture of my month-old nephew, face-planted on a blanket, doing absolutely nothing, as babies do.
Kid: “Aww! Cute.”
Me: “I know! Isn’t he SO smart!?”
Kid: (looks quizzically at the picture)
Me: “Like, the way he’s just lying there! It’s genius!”
Kid: “Ummm…I guess?”
Me: “I’m telling you, a baby who can rest like this– he’s going to cure cancer one day.”
Kid: “Oh I see. You’re messing with me.”
Me: “Yes! You’re finally able to read my sarcasm!”
Kid: “Well, it’s not really fair– sometimes you’re being sarcastic and sometimes you’re just being weird.”
Me: “Ah. So the truth comes out. You think I’m weird.”
Kid (backtracking): “Well, yeah…but like, weird is GOOD. There’s no such thing as weird, really. Weird just means different.”
Me: “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
Kid (defeated): “Ok…yeah.”