Nights like this

This is a picture I took from my window last night of the first real snow I've seen this season. Night's like this make me so happy/thankful/comforted that I can curl up in my warm bed and dream of snow blanketed landscapes instead of actually being out on one.

Objectified

Before anyone breezes through this post thinking it is some feminist rant let me assure you it is not. Although I probably could go off on one of those for a few paragraphs. However, I did feel objectified today and in the most unlikely of places, a salon. Usually when you go to a salon the person cutting your hair chats it up with you a bit, not today.

I went to get a hair cut because it seems when one has short hair that is all one does with dispensable income, or in my case non-existent dispensable income. Nevertheless, vanity won out and I went to the salon to get, I am ashamed to say, my 5th haircut of the year. I use to be an every 6 months or so girl and the change to every other month is disheartening.

Back to feeling objectified. I went the the Above Ground Salon, perhaps named for it's singular distinguishing characteristic of being above ground? I actually like my hair cut on one hand I was struck by the stylists perfect melding of hair science and art. She really knew what she was doing. But the hour and a half process, the number of people watching and running their fingers through my hair and the fact that my stylist stated that she could "conquer my hair" left me feeling a little subhuman.

At one time there were four people standing around watching my hair... not me, my hair. When I made a joke about it they either looked at me like I was an alien or ignored me. Most of the time my hair was in front of my eyes so there was no connection between them and me. I felt a little like a model, not the kind that gets lots of attention and gets to tell people they make bad clothes, but the kind who has to sit in art class in their underwear or in the nude so people can sketch.

Here's a bad self-take of the end result. It is probably the only day it will look as shiny and straight as she did it. The hair cut wasn't enough so I had to jazz it up by wearing this hoodie:)

Public Bathrooms

This post involves some bathroom humor, literally. I just went to the bathroom to tinkle and the only other person in the restroom was a girl pacing back and forth talking on her cell phone. This bothers me for many reasons:

1- I think it is disgusting to talk on a device that you hold to your mouth in a room used by the public to urinate and defecate. I won't go into leaving toothbrushes in the bathroom but in your own house you have some control.

2-I think it's an invasion of privacy, my privacy. If I wanted someone in a remote location to be privy to my bodily processes I would have peed in the street.

3-Finally, I think it is awkward. What do you say as you come out of the stall? "Tell your mom Hi for me!"

Am I wrong to assume some level of privacy even in a public bathroom?

All right, I am done with that rant.

Al v. George

I find myself playing two roles of late and I bet you can never guess what roles they are if I didn't tell you. Those of Al Gore and George W. Bush. I was just reading The Partly Cloudy Patriot which would lead one to conclude that I have been playing the role of Al Gore more frequently. However, the past few days I have felt more like the intellectual iconoclast, George Bush, who disdains erudition in general. To boot I have been dreadfully over-using the word pretentious. I blame that on my room mate Katherine because it is so easy to use it to make jokes about her and all English PhD students- love you Katherine:).

The inspiration for this post and my dual roles has been trying to find a balance between being knowledgeable in my field and taking myself too seriously. The climax of this occurred last Sunday at ward choir practice. I have sung in a few choirs and performed in duets and such in my life, none that would be considered "serious" by music types but nice ditties that helped a 10th-grade-orchestra drop out still feel like she has some ambition. I have also been a participant in the Hill Street Choir for the last two years, but have not attended since returning this summer. In all my second class music ventures I have never flailed my arm so as to project my voice nor buzzed through my lips to warm up in the way we did last Sunday. As a result I couldn't stop laughing. I think my voice warmed up more from my ill suppressed laughter as it did from the warm-ups.

You may be wondering at this point how did we get from Al Gore and George W. Bush to a recounting of Jessica's B-side musical adventures. The point is I hope I never get so caught up in what I am doing that I can't appreciate the humor of arm flailing and lip buzzing in my own profession no matter how seriously I take myself. As to the Al and George, ever since Al had a cameo on 30-rock I think I will lean his way.

Vertigo

Sunday I had what I can only describe as a bout of vertigo. It was very uncomfortable and even a little frightening. However now I feel like I can better relate to two stars that don't have vertigo but play like they do on TV or in the movies, Jimmy Stewart and Liza Minelli. I hope this condition doesn't turn chronic and debilitating like so many of my other chronic conditions that are not recognized by the medical world.

Memories

I heard an interview on NPR this week with author Zadie Smith. The interviewer asked about a few essays Zadie wrote about her deceased father. She seemed torn about writing about her father saying it is a betrayal, "once you write about someone that's died, what remains is what is written." She goes on to say it is a dangerous act as words replace memories just as photographs replace real things.

I understood that to mean once you put down into words your thoughts about someone those words influence forever your memories and thoughts of that person and events. I have been thinking about this concept lately, as my little brother has asked for stories about our mom, who died when he was 6.

I talked to him a few days ago about how we might go about recording the stories. I have mixed feelings. On one hand I'm excited to learn more about her, on the other part of me is afraid. I know it is important for historical reasons and probably for proper mourning etc. Hearing other's stories may also crystalize what "really" happened in certain cases. Nonetheless, I have very specific memories that I am afraid giving voice to may change forever.

Sometimes I think I treasure the "crafted" memories I construct in my head more than reality. I hope reality in this case doesn't bite. Here are some very cute, cool , classic pics of the lady herself:

Mom's the one in the red dress.

Mom with Mike and Kirsten

One on the far right.

Halloween Hair

Last week it was that time of year again, you know the time of year when kids dress up in cute costumes and adults dress up in inappropriate ones. I think they call is Halloween. I am admittedly not a huge fan of Halloween. It does have some nostalgic value but since I hate scary movies and am without small people to dress up in cute clothes I have to live it vicariously through friends and family who do have small people to dress up. Thanks to all of you who posted pictures of your terribly cute children.

Nonetheless despite my general apathy for the holiday I am not a total scrooge. When my roommate Kara requested to do my hair up in rag curlers, I was game. I think the idea intrigued me more for familial reasons than a desire to dress up. You see there are two kinds of hair in my family- stick straight and outrageously curly. Actually maybe three kinds because Mike doesn't have much hair at all but that's because he shaves it. However, two of my older siblings, Matt and Kirsten have very curly hair which at times I have envied, that is until I remember how long it takes my sister to straighten hers, then I am content with my own straight hair.

Thanks to Kara I was able to live, if just for a day, the life of a curly haired person. I noticed people weren't as nice to me, I was served smaller portions of food and lots of stuff got caught in my hair:) Overall I'm not sure it's worth it. The process to get it curly was painful enough for tender headed person like me. All the teasing was a little much for a head that is lucky if a brush even touches it once a day. On the bright side in the three hours it took to put in the rags I finished watching season two of Arrested Development. Below are pictures of the process, end result and family members who pull off the curly hair much better than I do.

And a special thanks to Kara for the experience and may I also add she has fabulous curly hair.

Brother Matt with baby Evan

Curly haired Kirsten with Rowan

The rag curls. It was a bit of a restless night with these in.

Final product

Kara and me.