Long December

"It's been a long December. And there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last."

I survived this year. The whole cliche' "if you can get through this, you can get through anything." Or how about the ever so popular, "What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger."

I suppose cliche's fit my life in 2009.

Fuck 2009. Flush it away. Say goodbye to the worst year of my life. We lost grandma and we lost our first baby. I know this was the worst year of my life because after finally understanding myself, I didn't recognize myself this year. I became someone I just did not recognize. I thought I had myself figured out. I suppose the chaos, the drama, the sorrow of 2009 turned me into a stranger.

So, here's to next year. Trying again at a family. Saying more hello's than goodbye's. Not having to shutter away from certain topics. Being able to laugh and really mean it.

Obsessed

I wish I knew when my obsession with my hair began. Perhaps when I started to actually have cute hair. Like when I had the faux hawk when I lived in Brooklyn?



Yea. Let's say the obsession started there. When my self esteem was beginning to actually be positive. When positive attention regarding my looks and style began to shower me. When I, for once, knew and understand who I truely was.

Then I moved to Florida. I was the new girl in town and my hair got plenty of attention. People would come up to me asking to cut my hair for free just to say they cut my hair.



After having short hair for most of my life, I decided to try and grow it out. It got to my chin and I'd wack it off. But finally, I was given a wonderful "growing out haircut."



And that was the last time I had my haircut for about a year. I tried to have a haircut once. My hair was about to my shoulders and I told the girl to give me a bob. She refused to cut it. At the time I was so offended and pissed. But now, I look back on it and I am so thankful. My hair just grew and grew and grew. I refused to let anyone touch it. Not to cut it, not to color it. My over-protectiveness became an obsession. I survived all 9 months of beauty school without one single person touching. Except a small bang trim. I began to let my hair just hang out. I started wearing it curly but it drove me nuts. So, I just flat ironed it once a week (washed it about once a week.)

Let me just fill you in on the chaos that is my hair. It's a rats nest. It's nappy. It's course, it's dry, it's curly, it's just a mess. So during my growing out phase, I put up with A LOT! Another reason why I am so psycho over protective of it. I finally decided to let someone cut it. Told her just a trim. My hair was this before:



It was then wacked into this:



I cried for weeks. It took almost a year for it to finally grow back and for me to finally trust anyone to touch it again. It was dreadful. But it finally recovered. I am now able to wear it curly. It is almost to my butt. It is amazing. I cut it like every six months. I never wear it straight. People don't believe me when I tell them it's my real hair.

So why do i freak out whenever I get it cut? I had it cut last week and I'm freaking out. Maybe 1/4 of an inch was taken off the length but she took out a lot of weight. I'm freaking out. I'm pathetic, i know....



I guess it's a good thing I'm a hair stylist

Portulaca

The house is on day one of chaos. Well, i suppose it's always been in chaos since we moved in. As most know, the previous tenants were my grandparents. Contrary to what the neighbors say, we're a bit louder. But, nonetheless, the house is undergoing a remodel. We've been here almost 3 years (is it 3 years? time got the best of me) and everything has pretty much remained the same. I suppose I've had quite an attachment to the way it was left. I have memories of being a child here. Part of me, wants it to stay exactly the same.

But I'm an adult now. Knocking on 30's door. I'm married and hoping to try again at starting a family. There's no need to hold on to the way things were here.

I used to bake cookies with grandma in this tiny little kitchen. The holly ones. You know, the ones with the green colored corn flakes and the red hots in the middle. Grandma had that god-awful white tree that we grew to appreciate. And as I moved away from home, I always came to visit them on my visits to St. Louis. Spending hours listening to Grandma talk and Grandpa chime in from time to time. Grandpa would always say to me, "Julie, everytime I see you, you're more and more decorated." What is it with the older generation saying I'm "decorated?" I love it, though. Grandma gave me a pair of her red "spectators." It was a long drawn out conversation of her describing her favorite shoes to me until she finally said, "here, let me show you them. I'll dig them out of the closet and you can have them." They fit like a glove.

Much like this house.

I just hope all this remodeling doesn't make the glove fit any different. It fits just nice. But it could use some alterations.

Red Belt

I'm finding it funny that on our roadtrip, Gretchen and I listened to Tegan and Sara and found ourselves making fun of them. But I suppose it's in good fun. Perhaps we were making fun of how obsessed we were with them at one point. The time we drove up to Chicago to see them and how when we met them afterwards, Gretchen told Sara, "I want to get in your pants." The funny part was Tegan looked over and said, "What about mine?" Gretchen was on cloud nine.

I find myself listening to their new album and one song stands out. I can't stop playing it over and over. Is it because it's THAT good or cuz the rest of the album is that BAD? Someone help me with this. Have Tegan and Sara improved, stayed the same, or have they lost their touch?

Regardless, I'll forever listen to them and continue to support and buy their records. Can I go so far as to call them my "silverchair for my 20's"???? I'm nearing the end of my 20's. Who will be my 30's?

Good times shouldn't be so seldom

Just thought I'd share the amazingness that is my best friend, Gretchen.