Thursday December 19, 2002 at 08:04 pm
I think I’ve become jaded of the Holiday seasons all together now, for whatever reason they seemed to have lost the lull that once used to immerge myself within. Then again maybe Mike’s presumption that I am anti-social as a bit to do with it as well, either way it is definitely made me realize the change more so than others, this year, as I seriously contemplate going home or not.
I know the holidays should be spent with one’s family and friends, but for me, when I think of it, it’s almost depressing, my immediate thoughts go to the 1st and foremost issue of how I’m going to get there to begin with. I could take the chance and drive the “Grandma Mobile”, but then I really would be able to think of anything else once I start out other than “Am I going to be able to make it back, hell am I going to be able to make it there?”. Putting that aside the 2nd issues is really what would I do, it’s not like My parents and I have ever sat and had a real in depth conversation, it’s almost been a Q and A session, and at the end silence reigns supreme, and most the other times, it’s usually my mom telling me to not get my dad started on something, due to her foreshadowing it to turn into a huge non-relevant and unimportant argument. If my brother is there, which is very possible, and then 95% of all conversations with him will turn into an argument, simply based upon the fact that I have yet to complete college, and various other issues, but mainly college and weight are his primary means of attack, and once those have been diluted and countered, it usually turns to whatever gift I got somebody in the house wasn’t good enough or lacked any real thought. Which with the exception of when I was younger and had no income, is greatly far from the truth, as most of my gifts are those that are feasible and realistic, and better yet, actually used on a constant basis. Which leaves only my mom to have any sort of intellectual conversation with, which has aforementioned is more of a mutual Q & A, which when once completed leaves not much else to discuss, which is not bad, since we both appreciate the fact that neither of us gets on the others nerves, it’s more like the ability to enjoy hanging out without having to say much of anything.
The majority of my friends that I hang out with when I’m back there, are usually the ones that live there, and usually turns into a “So how’s Phoenix treating you” topic, to which the simple reply of “It’s okay”, for the most part tapers that conversation down, and then with some it’s an issues of “you think because you moved to the big city you’re too good for us lil Sierra Vistians”, but not so much said straight out, but more or less implied by attitude and smaller comments. Anyone knows me knows this is not the case.
The simple fact of the matter is everyone who is from Sierra Vista, and still goes back for whatever reason, wants to return to Phoenix, in less than 6hrs of arriving, unless of course they sleep for the 1st 8 hrs when they arrive, to which that timetable is simply started after they awake. One of the many reasons for this is the lack of options, for the most part everything except for Wal-Mart closes at midnight or 1 am, not to say that one would always use them but it is nice to have the option to do anything after those hours available other than finding someone houses to kick it at and watch infomercials, as all regular programming ends at about 11pm and as for radio is concerned unless you enjoy listening to the same mid 90’s country songs, or Tex-Mex, all damn day you can count out picking up any radio stations without the aid of some sort of booster, though on occasion one may be lucky enough to grab a frayed bounced signal from Phoenix’s own “The Edge” The other major reason is the 35mph imposed speed limit throughout 98% of the town and surrounding areas except for the 2 outlying interstates, which has speeds of up to 55mph but scarcely so.
So why go back you may ask? Because at 3 am in the morning at the top of waterfall of Carr Canyon, you can hear the coyotes howl from the depth of the desert and see the all lights of Sierra Vista, as well as all the surrounding towns, without the interruption of a 737 landing or taking off, the constant roar of 70 mph 3 lane traffic, all in all, you can listen to silence. Granted I enjoy a city life, but my formidable years were spent with those mountains and countless nights listening to the same silence and wondering what else was out in the world. Ironic, how now I miss the serenity of those mountains, as well as the fact that I’d rather spend the entire time in the mountains than in the town if I do go back home, hopefully this time I won’t find myself sliding over the side of the mountain in the rental.
My option of course is to simply stay here, but I’ve found that to be debatable as well, if I do stay here then what will I do other than explore the dark IRC realms I’ve found myself back in, or working on the website. Granted the days proceeding Christmas already have possible planned events with everyone at various bars and clubs, same for the days after, but the day itself, is something all in its own.
All In all, I don’t think I’ve had a good, Christmas in a really long time, and by good I mean felt good or at least in the Christmas Spirit so to speak, granted I’m always home and sometimes it’s better than others, and gifts are exchanged and usually everyone likes what they have gotten and appreciate it. But gifts for me are the socially acceptable thing, and not the underlying meaning. Though I don’t consider myself to be a “Grinch”, I simply have yet to find the spirit of the holiday season this year or for the past few years.
On a side note, I finally woke up early enough to get my hair highlighted, which was quite…hmm interesting. First of all the reception tried to nonchalantly ask the stylist there if any of them, there was only 3, knew how to cut my kind of hair. Such a lovely way to start the day don’t you think. One of them nods; she can do it and tells me it’ll be a few minutes, as she finished up her current client. So after a few minutes waiting she greets me without a slightest look as to what she would be dealing with, and that’s when I remember that this salon doesn’t have the right clipper settings to cut the sides as low as I want them which pretty close to being shaved down to the skin, yet is not, but figured I’d just call up my barber and have him hook up the high and tight fade later in the week.
So I tell her I want highlights done and an inch taken of the top from the sides. She then tells me we’ll have to shampoo my hair 1st, like I didn’t know this, to which is why my hair was pretty much just watered down, as to not pull a full on ghetto look in route to the salon. She then asks me what color I want to highlight my hair, and I tell her blonde, and explain to her that by blonde, I mean close to platinum, not dirty brown, or whatever in between. She then tells me I have no idea what I’m talking about and that it’s impossible to do. Just a side note, she is the 2nd person this week to tell me I don’t know what the phuck I’m talking about, when I know for damn sure it can be done. I didn’t want to be to rude, because I wasn’t quite in the mood to try the other salon across the plaza, especially since I know it’ll take a 40 developer to bring out the color, so I opted to hold by natural tendency to verbally schmack down, and advise her it can be done, and proceed to tell her how to do it. Well this didn’t go to well as she then tell me “Look I’m a professional and I know what I’m doing, just let me take care of it”, to which my thoughts were “Aight lil miss thang, we’ll see when your sitting there wondering why it’s not working”. But then I decided to simply give something new a try and let her have at it.
After she washed my hair and for whatever reason decided to blow dry it and then highlight instead of cutting it 1st and then highlighting, she was feeling like she had just squished the ruffian who wandered into her cozy home and tried to take over. I was content with her continually raising her self to this level as we talked, actually as she talked and told me the process of how hair is highlighted, and why platinum blonde is impossible for someone with naturally black hair. She then told me why you had to use a toner after it was lightened, and basically everything that she could seem to remember about coloring in whatever beauty school she attended.
Finally she sits me down and begins to section of portions and foil them, she pauses for a moment and asks who normally does my hair, to which I exclaimed I did. She must have thought I misunderstood me because she asked me again, this time a little more as if to clearly punctuate that she was referring to the relaxing and the previous highlights that I was almost positive she was now running across, and again I explained that I normally do it myself, when I feel up to it. She fell silent and was forcing herself not to look at my facial reaction in the mirror, which she was having as hard of a time not doing as I was having not smiling, I was leading her to that nice cliff at the top of that mountain, she had just built herself up on, but not quite yet, I wanted to see if she would recover and either work her way down, or go for broke, and tumble over the edge.
She had completed the top section and was begin to section off the sides, when I stopped her after the 1st one and asked
“Can you make the weaves a bit thicker than ones you did at the top; I like to have the highlights group together a bit versus being sped out all around like tiny strands, almost like streaks”.
This was her moment, to back down gracefully or take the fall. She stumbled in her words but she did ease away from the cliff, by telling me she could but she didn’t see why. I the explained to her that when my hair is styled the highlights get covered up because my hair groups together in thicker strands, and doesn’t stay loose like she apparently thought it did. I then pointed out a picture on the wall of some model whose hair had the same texture as mine, and she understood, with a very low “Oh”. I then told her normally I would use a cap to highlight my hair myself, but have since lost it in my recent moves, and have lost the motivation to spend hours painfully and blindly, pulling my hair through it. She told me they had a cap, their, but rarely use it because it groups the highlights closer together giving a spotted effect to which with cocked eyebrow I replied,”Exactly and that’s why I normally would use a cap”.
She finally broke down and began asking me how long I had had my hair this way, and I explained to her ever since 94 with a few spotted years and months throughout, where I had a loss of sense and shaved it all off and went back to my truly hold school high and tight military fade. She didn’t know what that meant so I explained to her the reason why I asked for a 0000 and not just a 0, was because there are different level to closeness with all of them. A plain old 0 will leave about a millimeter of hair left after being cut. A 00 will leave about ½ of that and 000 about 1/3, where a 0000 will leave about ½ of a 1/3 millimeter of hair on the scalp. She then gave me a blank look as if; she didn’t know why it would matter to have your hair cut that close. A bit of irony is that I explained the whole thing to Sean last night as well, while Vegas and I were talking about the off the hook barbershops to hit up.
I explained to her that because the vast majority of her clients have straight hair in which they wouldn’t use shears on to begin with, it was understandable, but because I have naturally curly hair, it is a necessity. When curly hair is shaved to the skin, and begins to grow out, it grows out in its natural curl in the shape of you guessed it a “C”, so here’s where it comes to play, once a strand of hair gets beyond the length of lets say a natural “C” it continue to curl, but at this time it’s basically curling in on itself, and it’s general pattern begins to send it back towards the scalp, not in the same spot it came out of obviously, but slightly off, As it does this it hits the scalp until enough growth forces it back up. The easiest way to picture it is like the ring of a notebook turning. So when the hair gets to this point it begin to poke back at the scalp, which makes it feel like there are a million tiny little pins poking your head all over. She followed up to this point so hopefully anyone reading this will to.
Now if you cut that ‘C” with a 0 rated shear blade it will cut all the hairs so that look like a “C” with the top shopped off, the problem with this is within usually a week or so it’s grown back out and back to poking the scalp again, causing irritation to whomever the houses the head. A 00 will shop that “C” in half, a 000 1/3 and 0000 will reduce the curl to a mere speck, which with the touch of the hand can be seen but to the eye is barley visible, thus if I get my hair cut with a 0000, I can go without a needed cut for at least a 3wks, whereas with her 0 rated shear, I’d have to get it re-cut within 2 wks if not 10 days. She has the look of being impressed yet ticked off, by the fact that I just explained something like that to her, the professional, and the one that was supposed to be taking care of things.
She finally gave in and asked how I knew about the 40 developer, and I reiterated that I normally do my own highlights, but that wasn’t good enough, and asked where I learned about it at, because she had never heard an explanation of shear ratings such as mine in the 8 years she had been doing hair. I told her I learned about the coloring aspects and toner, and chemical stopping shampoos, from my ex girlfriend, when we were together. She asked why we weren’t together and I gave a vague enough answer to satisfy her curiosity, but then asked how long ago it was and to which I simply said over 2 yrs, but of course that wasn’t enough, she wanted to know who this mystery woman was, so I explained to her that when we met she had been a stylist for just shy of 17yrs so at the end of our 2 yr stint it would have made 20, and thus up now being 22-24 yrs now, but I wasn’t sure if she was still styling or not, so as to not set those numbers in stone. She had a peculiar look on her face, as I glance up to the mirror, as if she was performing a slue of mental calculations. I let out a low level smirk as I could see she had reached her conclusion, but I’d let it settle in even more. What started out as a rude jester and attitude was turning into shear entertainment now, So I figured I’d milk it some more as she finished up the foils and left me to let the chemicals take effect, I asked her if she was still thinking it was impossible to get platinum from black, to which she hesitated a moment, and replied “ I don’t think you can, but you never know”, she was unsure of it now, all based off what I told her, and all the details surrounding it and intertwined with it to provide enough supporting facts to show her I did know what I was talking about.
20 minutes later, the timer, rang off, and I moved to the dryer for another 5 minutes wondering the entire time if I still had the picture in my wallet, and fiddled in my seat to try and reach it without doing to much damage to the adjacent bookstand, and not frying my neck and head on the inner dryer walls. After another 10 minutes, she pulled me out and washed out the highlighting chemical, added toner, let it sit, washed and conditioned and dried again. I was going to have her thin out the back some but, figure there was no use as it already getting close to the time I anticipated to be headed home and getting ready for work. I gave no visual reaction to the color especially because I know for a fact the color when wet is completely different once dry.
15 minutes later she was done, granted she gave a valiant attempt at style my hair, but unless you’ve had my style or seen me do it, it’s impossible do be done at it’s current length, while standing upright, yet she gave it good try. She was curious to see how I style it daily so I leaned over so my hair hung down, ran my finger through it to get out any snags, and let it naturally gather, stood up, flipped it back, knock a few strangling strands to the side and was done. She laughed and called it low maintenance has it required no combs or brushes, and asked if I like the color.
“It’s definitely not was I intended on getting when I came in but I like it, it’s not as profound and extreme as platinum or bleach blonde, but stands out just enough yet, can still remain a tad bit professional incase I need to look for another job”
“See I told you can’t get it that light”
I laughed and pulled out my credit card and driver’s license to pay and told her to look at the picture, unfortunately it was an older one from before I met my ex. The only other picture I had was an older one of my ex and I, but could barely make out the full highlights, but it did have at least one strand clearly visible and clearly blonde. I told her I had a better picture online and showed her the one of my yahoo profile pictures, to which she kind hung her head down, in what I thought was embarrassment, but it turns out she was look at the picture I had handed her still, and now was back to the peculiar look I mentioned before.
She caught me with a grin and asked what I was grinning about, I pretty much in Matlock fashion, explained to her that woman in the picture was my ex, the one who kind of taught me about coloring my hair, the one that when we met was a stylist of 17 years, the reason I know I can get my hair damn near any color I want with the right amount of bleach colors and the right developer strength.
“Well I guess you can then huh, it looks good on you as well, but you look so much younger in this picture, with no goatee, was this just before you broke up?
“No that was a few weeks after my 21st birthday”
She handed me my card and I signed and gave her a nice tip and she handed me back the picture, we said our farewell pleasantries and I began to head to the door
“But wait you said she was a stylist of 17 yrs?, So you have to be older than what you told me the last time you came in here, what you said you were 27!”
“I am, I’m 21 and a few months in the picture I handed you”, I paused for a second with a raised eyebrow.
“When we met I was 20 and she was 34, she’s 35 in that picture and I’m 21”
“Have a Merry Christmas”
I walked out smiling, that was fun, I’ll post a pic later
Nice, goes to show ya how stupid people can really be… Amen! stupid wins again.