silence is golden

I should never be allowed to enter a hair salon alone. Not only that, but I should have folks on speed dial to keep me accountable, kinda like a sponsor to keep me from the inevitable emotional meltdown. It is simply not worth the trauma that I go through upon leaving the salon (not to mention the weeks that follow to get a hair cut. It honestly is not as bad this time because in the back of my head i was able to prepare myself as the hair just kept falling. The word "layers" should not be in my lexicon. It's not so much the shock of the chia pet look - which anyone with thick curly hair knows well, but more so the fact that the 3 inches taken off the bottom that I ask for when I walk in turn into many many more as the layers are cut, then evened, then the bottom has to be cut to work with the layers. All this added with my forgetting just how curly my hair really is. When it's long (and to the credit of the woman who cut my hair, it is still "long" by all standards, it's just "short" for me, hitting upper mid back instead of lower back) the weight lessens the curl. The shorter it gets, the less it weighs (duh!), and consequently the more it curls thus making it even shorter. Logical, to be sure, but a fact that I tend to forget when I'm used to the curl being weighed down. On a positive note, it grows like a weed, so it should be back soonish. At least it's different. For me. Not really different because all I did was make it slightly shorter than it was previously. All in all, it is cute, but i'm too busy lingering in shock to freely admit this to myself. The kicker is that a year from now i'll go through it all again.

puzzles i create for myself

So I love to work logic puzzles. This doesn't mean a lot but does set a bit of the context to this post. Logic puzzles are like a good mystery to be solved. There is an answer and I must eliminate variables in order to decipher it. Solving problems (of a non-mathematical nature) gets my juices flowing. That being said, I'm not fond of the little mysteries i leave for myself.
I have an alarming habit of jotting things down on random scraps of paper - phone numbers, partial addresses, company names, words, etc. I would like to claim that I jot in haste and therefore omit vital information inadvertently. As much as convenient shifting of blame pervades our society (a post for another day), I must admit full culpability in my current circumstance. At the time I write the small, yet seemingly important bits of information, i am certain that I will remember the relevance of a word or number, not to mention the corresponding scrap of paper on which it was written. In all honesty, I don't even think about the possibility that I could have problems in the not so distant future, so i suppose the previous "certain I will remember" statement is in error. No, my mind simply fills in the relevant blanks at the time I write it, and my brain apparently gives no thought to attributing corresponding details to assist in the assimilation of the information. The result is a joyous experiential period as I gaze inquisitively at the scrap I had intended to throw away moments before. What, pray tell, is the relevance of this phone number? To whom does it belong? Do I dare call it and find out? And just when did I "need" the number? For obviously, the time has passed, evidenced by my inability to place the number.
I do manage to figure out almost each scrap in time, but it would save worlds of time and frustration (although thereby eliminating the "game") if I just learned to write everything down at the beginning. An element of my frustration springs from the fact that this never used to be a problem as I have both the blessing and curse of a rather extensive memory. Apparently my ability to juggle all information and keep it at the forefront has waned slightly. And this requires adaptation which i seem to be too lazy to appropriately enforce.

Them's good eatin'

So i was driving home from work today contemplating roadkill. Before I get too deeply involved in this post, it should be noted that I am a girl, and despite occasionally wishing it weren't, my behavior is, as such, girlie. I don't dwell to deeply on the fact that it was until recently a fuzzy animal, and despite my sciency background, my initial response is always "ewwwwee". That being said, I was thinking about my history with roadkill. You see, I grew up in a rural area. Roadkill came in all shapes and sizes and with the reasonably light traffic flow, would lie by the side of the road until it bloated and began to decompose, only occasionally being scattered by an unsuspecting vehicle. I have also visited parts of the world where a cow can lie dead in the middle of the road and everyone knows to just go around until the vultures have finished their work. Roadkill in the city is an entirely different experience. First, I wonder how, exactly, there comes to be roadkill on the highway. There are fences, people. And the highway wasn't built yesterday. It's not likely to surprise Bambi because heaven knows it's loud. Yet still there is roadkill. In the past few days i have driven past/through the scattered remains of some poor animal, now unrecognizable. I know, based on the state of different parts of the carcass, that the roadkill is relatively fresh. I also know that it will be gone in the next few days. This is not because birds of prey will find a feast, but instead because the sheer multitude of vehicular traffic will have pulverized anything that remains.
Thus my morbid observation.
In other news, I am a total and complete klutz. This, of course, is not new to me as I have always been a klutz, but is more relevant at this moment in time because I just fell up (yup, i said up) the stairs not once, but twice before I made it to my apartment.
Because I am such a klutz, I frequently forget I have fallen or bumped into an object only to wonder where the bruise that develops in the not so distant future came from.
That's all I've got right now.

needle in a haystack

So I spend an inordinate amount of time in bookstores and I particularly enjoy Half Price Books, for reasons that an idiot would be able to deduce. There's also something about books that, at least in my mind, makes them more interesting if others have read them as well. Perhaps it's the literary theorist in me, but there's an odd back story involved. Not only am I reading this text (taking into consideration, of course, time, place, and manner in which it was written - yup, i'm a geek) and therefore involved in my own unique reading at that very moment in time, but am also involved in the lingering of someone else's experince with the very same text, which is bound, by nature of humanity, to have been a very different but equally impacting interpretation/experience. Which (sidenote) is why library stalking brings shame, yes, but also a great deal of excitement - the ability to interact with another reader and gather their impressions of the text; i'm almost overjoyed with the possibility.
This is not the reason for the posting....instead it's a commentary on the gleaning (of a hunt a peck variety) required when searching through the clearance CDs at Half Price Books. I've worked a ton of overtime recently so i engaged in a splurge, settling myself before the understock CDs and purusing at leisure. One must be strong in fortitude and possess a unique sense of humor to commit to such an undertaking. This, you see, is because you must search through multiple copies of the Titanic soundtrack (how could anyone part with such a gem?), a virtual boy band grave yard (yup folks, Backstreet Boys, 98 degrees [there isn't a key for that on the keyboard?] NSync, and O Town are all represented), and easy listening that would make any John Tesh/Yanni/Kenny G lover's heart flutter. The CDs I tend to pick up are CD's i've never listened to but am intrigued and have decided I can't pass up for a dollar or two. I do realize that there is most likely a reason that said CD is priced at a dollar or two, but i don't entertain that thought long. Occasionally I come across an early releace from a band I enjoy, or a movie soundtrack that has a great (or just really nostalgic) song involved - hense why I purchased the City of Angles soundtrack (the Goo Goo Dolls Iris is such a song).
** right now i'm pissed at having inadvertantly deleted half of my post because i'm writing under the influence of a lovely merlot. Damn pop up blocker.**
Today i have listened to some of the random purchases I recently made. There is always a risk involved in purchasing an unknown band/album and although I am far from a risk taker by nature - i prefer to know good and well what i should expect before i commit, I happily piled CDs atop of books a week ago friday. I can say that a few of my findings have far exceeded my expectations (of course I tend to live with low expectations in order to avoid dissapointment). Overall I am pleasently surprised. A few of my selections turned out to be duds, but at least one of my impulse buys has proved a keeper. And after all, isn't that all you can hope when searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack?