I was supposed to work today, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I could use the money, but it would have been 7 days straight, and that’s just way too much work. Instead I met Sara for lunch at Whole Foods (their sesame tofu is one of the best tofu dishes I’ve ever had). I just finished the first haircut I’ve had since July. I think my hair looks alright kind of long, but at a certain point, it’s out of hand. There comes a time when hair is so long that you have to start admitting that you have long hair, then start grooming and trimming it so it doesn’t get out of control. I just didn’t want to get to that point, and as a result was wearing a rat’s nest around. Worse, when I wore a knit hat in the cold, my hair exploded in curls (it gets really wavy when it’s long) from the base of my neck. Hideous. I always get nervous right before a haircut. Really nervous. Not the actual act of cutting off my hair, but the lead up. It’s something about having my name on a list, waiting for it to be called, and then having it called out to the world by someone who is obviously cooler than me, otherwise they wouldn’t be styling hair for a living. Then the question, “How did you want your hair cut today?” Which really means, “How do you want to look? How do you percieve yourself at your best? What is your ideal appearance?” It’s just so much pressure. And then the funny part is that the result seems to always be at the whim of the stylist. Because I say the same thing everytime and everytime it’s pretty different.
I’ve been carrying on the long and painful task of reloading all of my music onto my iPod. The thing crashed on me, and when you take them in for repair, the Apple people just walk away to a back room and come back with a whole new, blank iPod. This is very cool, considering there’s no repair time or charge, and you’re given a brand new one. But no music. Argh. I’m up to just over 6,000 songs, and have about another thousand to go. It’s funny how something worth hundreds of dollars and so much more sentimentally can become worthless so fast. For about a month I carried my old one around, hoping it would spring to life. But it basically was just a little piece of metal and plastic, when just weeks ago it was my best friend, a family member and sometimes a lover.
I’ve come to really like the comic strip Judge Parker. This guy I work with, whose actual name is Mandela Black Shabazz with two other middle names in there I can’t remember, always reads the day’s strip aloud. It’s strangely compelling. Three frames a day in which an entire week’s events could literally include Judge Parker teaching a lady friend how to eat Sweet and Sour Pork with chopsticks. I was thinking that’s the kind of job I need. A serial, three-frame comic. I could spend the whole day drinking and reading comic books, then 10 minutes before deadline, snap to attention and hurriedly come up with the day’s events. And if I can’t think of something, I can always just make a character use the restroom. Panel 1: “Excuse me Judy, I have to use the restroom.” Panel 2: “Okay.” Panel 3: “Ah, much better.” And that’s a day’s strip. I guess Mandela started rewriting the strip’s dialogue bubbles. I can’t wait to read them.
For those of you who didn’t get this from Catfish, this is a damn good concert, free for download on NPR.