Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Born This Nerdy

As I slump over a keyboard in my Pooh Bear and Spamalot pajamas with the Vlogbrothers running automatically beside my Word Document, I rest easy in my freshly discovered nerdfighterness. I’m not one for labels, but this time the big rubber stamp is more than welcome. So, I have decided to regale you all with my nerd journey.

I could possibly blame my parents. As we know, when two people love each other very much and fall into nerd-like then add some marriage and possibly some illegal substances you produce a born nerd. We won’t go that far back, but that is the origin. Two hippies had a baby. One hippy grew up and stopped being a hippy to raise a nerd. The other hippy is still a hippy which does not make for a good father, only a marijuana machine.

Growing up as a single-child and moving only a few times from one deeply secluded home to another, you learn to live inside of your own head. Lord knows plenty of nerds come from the suburbs, but a forest nerd is like a tiny flickering fairy riding the back of a unicorn. That’s how I saw myself anyway. With my wooded “home” complete with paintings hung from trees, chairs salvaged from trash heaps, and boyfriends made of bark. Sadly when I finally did start dating that hadn’t changed.

I actually didn’t start dating until I was well out of high school and well into cosmetology school. I’ve always looked young for my age and when a nice juvenile man asked me out via a note shoved in my car window, I agreed and prayed he wouldn’t ask my age.

Eventually he did ask my age, but by that point we didn’t care. No, he wasn’t a nerd, but he was SOMEONE and my clandestine online romances never produced quite the same feeling as having someone actually sit in the same room with you holding your hand and not simply *holding your hand*.

This was my longest and first relationship. It ended after seven months when he dumped me over a horse. That the relationship had reached a point where an equine break-up was even an option was a sign that things were less than rosy. Later, of course, he came crawling back to me with a hang-dog expression and maroon mums clutched in his hands. I was at work at the time and probably should have handled his pathetic attempt at an apology better than yelling, “No, no, no, no, no! Stop right there. NO!”

Failed, few, and short romances aside, I spend a lot of time alone. Possibly an unhealthy amount. I was alone a lot after I had to withdraw from univeristy because of an illness. I didn't go out for about two years. I don’t mean I didn’t date, which I didn’t, I mean I didn’t leave the house. For two solid years. Seriously.

I work in a very social business so of course I’m much better socially now, but outside of my salon I’m indoors at my house. There may be outdoor nerds, but I’m not one of them. I do believe that along the path of human evolution we created for ourselves in the first world a water-tight, air-conditioned, pleasant-smelling, mostly bug-free, food-stocked, and sun-proofed shelter. Who am I to deny eons of human advancement in construction? I love my indoors. I am comfortable with my textually based friendships. Screw the sun.

Aversion to the outdoors, a love of video games spawning from Mario NES version 1.0, all consuming obsession with the written word, and now a love of the Vlogbrothers, Nerdfighteria, and all things that never forget to be awesome, I now feel more secure in my identity than ever before.

In a small-town community that prized the athlete, the cheerleader, the churchgoer, the buxom blonde, or the bouncy brunette, I filled none of these roles. For years I was uncomfortable in my own skin. The screwy artistic kid who could draw and who spent my lunch hour with the pot-heads and skater kids quietly drawing so that I wouldn’t have to look up from the page and brazenly meet someone’s eye. Eye-contact could lead to conversation. Awkward questions. Socializing! The horror!

Then I was a young adult struggling with depression and loneliness with no career and no formal schooling. I am now utterly secure in my craft, even if I am facing struggles I haven’t had in years. With business being worse than it’s ever been, I can only console myself with the knowledge that I am very good at what I do even if I haven’t got enough heads on which to work. And I’m pretty sure my boss is trying to kill me.

Finding the Nerdfighters and watching hundreds (and hundreds) of Vlogbrother videos has really given me the boost I needed to pull through. I’m excited to dive into this awesome new community. Thumbs up for having something to look forward to!

Thursday, June 23, 2011

In which there is cursing

So I was about halfway through writing a very POSITIVE blog about the GOOD THINGS that have been happening this last week (Oh em gee I’m going to see my friend in Utah soon! I may have found a new place to work in town with tons of business! My evil she-devil boss and her devil-devil husband are gone for the week!) when I got some bad news. And you have no idea how tempted I am to go on an “Oh OF COURSE something shit happened! It’s my life! Everything is shit! I touch it and it turns to shit! I look at it and it turns to shit! What’s that? Oh it was a beautiful diamond ring sent to me from a prince but now it’s a big ol’ pile of shit!” rant.

But that’s too easy.

Really I am not that upset. See, it was the job offer. A very busy salon in town is loosing one of their long time stylists soon and they wanted me to work for them. Which is… ok. They do about 90% over 90 clientele. So that’s a lot of little old lady perms and roller sets and teasing teasing teasing black lung from hairspray teasing. And that’s fine! There’s something to be said for stylists who can dress hair to that degree of skill because let me tell you, those old biddies let you know real fast if they don’t like what they see.

The thing is I am still planning on moving. I really only wanted to work there to help them with their over-flow and earn some more money to, ya know, fund my move! I couldn’t lie to them. Even a lie by omission is too hard for me. So I informed the owner that maybe in the fall I’ll be moving and for sure in the winter.

That was the deal breaker and I honestly can’t blame her. Not only would I be leaving her back in the situation she’s in, with one empty chair, I’d be leaving her my clientele as well. Ironically she said that there’s a chance the ladies will love me and be really mad when I leave.

I may have just been refused because I’m… good?

Either way, that’s out. But I do understand and I’m not too upset. I am sad that I’m stuck where I am; every day started with a mini-panic-attack at some new barb or nasty look shot my way and endless hours of lost clients because I am apparently supposed to be moved now!

Yeah that’s been a major issue. I have had so many people say to me, “Oh hey, you’re still here??? You were moving, right???” I feel like the unsaid, “You were moving, right, LOSER?!” is being screamed I my face. Not a great feeling. But it does explain my massive and sudden lack of clients.

Plus everyone is broke. Which makes me broke. Which means I have to have my parents pay my bills or I’d be writing this blog by candlelight on paper for no eyes to see.

I am genuinely trying to have a positive attitude though. I am very prone to that whole “my life is shit” stuff and thanks good friends who gently take me by the shoulders and shake the hell out of me, I’m not flinging myself from a cliff right now.

And I am still going to see my friend in Utah where I will look for some places to work that want very, very temporary help and have huge client walk ins. I realize that I’m probably going to end up at a Cheap Cuts For U Hut or some shit, but if that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes.

This is such a screwy time for me right now. I’m not sure what the hizeck is going on. So many questions running through my mind all the time. Should I just suck it up and stay here in Ozark until I can move to NYC full time? But I’m not making enough money right now to do that. So should I move to Utah for a little while and earn more there? Well, who wants to hire someone for such a short amount of time?

I JUST DON’T KNOW! But my life is not shit. It just stinks. Sometimes. Like excrement.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

They call me Big D

So last night I had a total mental breakdown. Complete with crying, snotting, keyboard face slamming, inability to breathe, that funky noise you make when you’re crying and you can’t breathe and you keep smacking your face into your keyboard. Yup. It was impressive. It also made me feel better. As did speaking to my friend who ignored my horrible face spelling and long pauses as I whimpered and internet kicked me like this “-kick-“ which was cute.

I hesitate to use the big ugly D word. You know that word. It has medication and self abuse and mucus involved. In my case it’s connected to too much cheesecake (which could be under self abuse as it makes me very ill but tastes so so good) and gardening. That’s right. If I’m reaching for the shovel and rake, you can bet your ass I’m looking at possibly maybe probably could be but not quite sure if this is a thing yet but maybe I haven’t decided depressed.

I get frustrated when someone bandies the word around. Oh yeah I totes broke a nail, it’s so DEPRESSING. I missed that sale at Barney’s and I’m DEPRESSED. I lost my home and job due to a medical emergency and I couldn’t pay my bills because I haven’t got heath insurance and I am now heavily medicated for my DEPRESSION. Ok, the last one counts.

I’m not there though. I’m just bummed. Bummed bummed bummed. Better today than yesterday because of my pity party. I was able to work on two of my three scheduled clients which was great. I now consider it a normal occurrence if one or more of my clients doesn’t show for her appointment and doesn’t bother to call to cancel. I just roll with it. And that, my dears is why I am bummed! I LOVE MY JOB. To the point that it’s a bit obsessive. I adore being a hairstylist and yes it’s not rocket science and no I’m not curing cancer but it’s what I do. And I’m good at it. Really good. So I love using my skills and helping people and when I’m denied that opportunity by fucking massive asshole whores who book appointments and never show thus making me loose two to three hours of my day, I get a bit tetchy.

When I can’t work, I am denied doing what I love and I am also denied making a living doing what I love. If I were an amazingly self possessed go getter social butterfly who glorified in pimping herself I would go out on the street with a sandwich board handing out flyers declaring my awesomeness, but I’m not. I am quiet. I don’t like to brag. Well, ok, I don’t mind to do so in writing but I seriously do NOT like to do it using my human voice. Mostly I’ll stare at my feet and shuffle around saying “eh yeah I’m ok I guess”. Ask Eric Alt. I’m a terrible self promoter. When I should’ve been rattling off gold medal wins and flashing pics of my epic hair achievements I was asking about his Brazil nut allergy. Face. Desk.

I want to work. I want to assist with Beth Minardi. I want to work fashion shows. I want to learn the massive freaking ton that I don’t know. I want to grow in my craft. I want to do more than attend random hair classes. I want to be in a healthy environment that encourages growth. I want to expand my art and become the best at what I do. I want to teach.

I need to get out of where I am.

I have to do it soon.

Or my front lawn is going to be on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Freestyling Madness

I decided a little while back that I would only write if I had something good worth writing about. I was getting sick of seeing bad news and even if I had to suffer, no reason to subject anyone else to my dreary whining. As you can tell, I haven’t been writing very much! In fact, the way I figured it out, if I only wrote about accomplishments on the road to a bigger and better life, this would be a rarely updated blog indeed. Then I also remembered that it’s my stinking blog and if I want to whine, I bloody well can.

It’s not that every day is bad. Some days I’ll get a little bit of good news. A thumbs up from my beauty supply lady that comes every Thursday letting me know the move to the other salon is well on track! Then the next day I’ll find out, oh, no wait, it isn’t coming along. In fact, they haven’t even started remodeling so I can move in! And the crooked landlord is now helping people in the area who have lost their homes to tornados, for a nominal fee of course, and won’t be bothered to get started any time soon or this year for that matter. Good news may come in the form of a newly available salon in town that I could simply move into alone and do my thang. Oh but ya know, they’ll probably want me to sign a lease so that’s out.

What else, what else. Hm. My house is overrun by spiders. It’s like a goddamn horror movie with John Goodman and the only thing I have to defend myself is an $80 bill from Terminix assuring me that my house is pest free. I use the giant bill to crush horrific spider monsters.

I did get to see one of my old friends today which was lovely. We hadn’t spoken in a while because she’s been ill and a bit home ridden and I know what that’s like. It’s hard to find motivation to leave the house when you’re sick and don’t feel as pretty as you should and before you know it, it’s been two months and you haven’t spoken to anyone but your house plants. But this story isn’t about me!

I haven’t named the plants yet which I consider a small victory for sanity.

My life is so random and confusing right now. As you can tell from the complete lack of structure herein. Honestly, if you’ve gotten this far you’re reading this sad excuse for a blog either because you’re my mother or my best friends. Hey guys. How’s it going? Why do all of my closest friends live in different far flung states? This sucks. Y’all should come over. Have some sweet tea. Swat mosquitoes with me. Malaria is great. Makes you thin, you know. Bit bleedy, but such is the price of beauty.

What? Oh um. So it’s really hot here.

Oh my god, Jessica you’re talking about the weather?!

Hey, even the best of us run out of ideas! And it’s not like I’m leading an excitement filled life here in Nowhereville. It’s a fucking thrill a minute watching the grass grow!

What about that music festival, Wakarusa, that came to town last weekend?

What about it? Ten thousand hippies descended upon a wee villiage of 3,500 armed with bongs and absolutely positively certainly no soap. I went the last two years but grew weary of seeing skanks in string bikinis flirt with drug dealers and melting in the sun surrounded by, let me say again, thousands of unwashed bodies.

Ah. Yeah your life is boring.

No shit.

You also appear to be talking to yourself.

I thought you were the potted palm tree, Julio. Goddamnit. Well, I have obviously gone crazy. Maybe I should find a life partner. Someone who loves and understands me. It’s hard though, around here to not find someone you’re related to. I know, I’ll use these guys! They’re awesome!