Our daughter is named after her.
My mother played her onstage when I was about 2 or 4 and they figured out I was smart because I started reciting huge swathes of dialogue after going to rehearsal.
Well, smart or able to memorize.
It’s winter and I’m… moody. Unsettled, disjointed. Unlikely.
It’s not SAD exactly, it’s something near to it. I’ve also had a really rough year at work.
When you work in a school it starts in August. And my year started off wrong and I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten back in step. There were a number of times the previous semester I would feel utterly in the flow, this year—NOT EVEN A LITTLE. It’s been a slog.
The good thing: I work in a great district in wonderful schools. The teachers are caring and for the most part treat me like I’m a human being and not a computer myself . I have a great boss and excellent principals. Our district is well regarded and I think will only improve in the coming years.
The bad thing: more work than I can do. WAY more. And I’m still new so I don’t know how things operate. Also, my background is corporate and education is a different animal entirely.
It’s THAT time of year. you know—not quite warm enough to be Spring, but late enough in Winter that you want it to be. February, Imbolc, Brigid’s Feast….
I’m cutting all my hair off tomorrow. It’s time to admit several things.
I don’t enjoy it anymore. I’m getting really tired of spending upwards of 20 minutes on my hair every morning. I have things to do. I want to get out the door. I would rather spend time on my daughter’s beautiful golden locks.
While it still (barely) looks good, it takes a lot of work to look that good. And during the day it stops looking that good.
Done with this:
would rather enjoy this:
and truly that picture doesn’t do her justice. She was posing and you can’t see the exuberance of her spirit that you can say, here:
She’s all about having ringlets in the morning. At least right now, she’s told me, until she shaves her head in college like mommy did.
GOD…here’s the small finger she wraps me around.
But then there’s my hair.
I think in pictures I look fine but up close not so much. Maybe it is because I’m 1 MEELION years old or because I’ve moved back to Fayetteville where the water never agreed with me, but my hair is NOT RIGHT and neither is my life right yet, so I will cut off the old energy and see what happens.
Isn’t hair for women/girls such a big deal? Bean had the cutest bob that she HAD to grow out because all her friends are all growing long hair. Before that she had long hair and when she wanted to cut her hair, the hair she’d grown since she was born—I hid in the bathroom beforehand and cried, now I’m wishing she wanted a bob again, because it was so easy and very cute. But boys have short hair, according to 8 year old logic.
I have an issue of not feeling feminine unless I have my big hair. I have a “male” way of being. (I am grumpy about that characterization, but I’ve heard it more than once). I’m direct, I’m linear (and women aren’t???) and I don’t mind, shall we say, throwing mine on the table to measure it (mine is usually bigger). Also, even though I’m currently in a feminized area of IT I generally am not. Furthermore, while I am girly inside, I feel most comfortable in chucks or combat boots (ok with a skirt ) and countless partners have tried to feminize me,which has never ultimately worked out.
Big Hair= Girl
Every so often I become convinced it is time to GET RID OF IT. It being the big hair. It being the weight of expectation that hair places on me that I never fulfill.
Every time I’ve done this I’ve had tears and I’m sure tomorrow will be no exception. But every time I’ve done it I’ve felt more free afterward, eventually after the tears. I’ve cut it off, I”ve shorn it in places, I’ve dyed it more colors than found in nature. But….it’s the cutting, that is significant.
And I’m doing this because I found my next thing and NOW it is time for me to find my NEXT THING.