I Know This Much is True

Yesterday I went for a haircut. This is always an anxiety-producing event for me. There are too many questions involved, too many choices. “What do you want?” “Well, I want my hair cut.” “Well, how do you want it cut?” “Short.” “Well, how short? All one length or layers?” If I am lucky, I can find a picture and say “Like that.” For a few years, I sported a “Mila,” a short do based on a picture of Mila Jovovich with short hair. Then, a basic bob that varied in length based on how long I waited to get it cut again. Yesterday, though, I was very vague about “short.” As soon as I sat in the chair and almost relaxed, the hairdresser started talking to me. Not the usual “how are you?” chit-chat, but a scary, one-way conversation that began “I’m not even supposed to be here today. I’m just covering for some lazy bitch who didn’t come in today.” All the while, Edwina Scissorhands just kept hacking away at my hair. “Bunch of lazy-ass people work here,” she continued as I cowered in my chair, terrified. The result was very short, but I like it, a step away from my comfortable bob – and it is easy to do, an absolute requirement of any hairdo I have.

I was recently looking through some old photos and I came across a picture of me from my college graduation. My attention was immediately drawn to my hair. It was so long. I cut it off a year or two after graduation and it has been short ever since, so I had forgotten what it looked like long. Looking at old pictures is such a bizarre experience anyway. They tend to evoke memories long forgotten. Mostly I smiled at the old photos, from early vacations taken and even photos from our honeymoon. I look at pictures and tend not only to remember, but to analyze, trying to figure out how much of that picture Kimberly is still me, trying to imagine how these two Kimberlys are the same. When I look at college Kimberly, I immediately thinking of writing . Well, writing and bare feet. Even with more than a decade of life experience since college, I think there is still some of that girl in me.

In the last few weeks, I rediscovered writing. It has always been a part of me and even when I wasn’t writing, I would still think about it, come up with ideas for poems and would jot down ideas in a notebook. Mostly these ideas are still in notebooks tucked away in our hall closet (with my old writing and Jeff’s old screenplays and all of our photo albums). Lately, though, I have felt an enthusiasm for writing that I had thought was lost. I am not sure what the catalyst was, but I am enjoying putting words to paper and have found that the words are flowing more easily than they have in years. I am loving it and I think it shows. I just may finish this novel yet. I'm 120 pages in -- I can't give it up now!

I know I tried to start an online writing group and failed at that!

I know I need a new job (more on that in my next post).

I know I my insurance company needs help, so maybe I can get a job there (more on that in my next post).

Mostly, I know despite my complaining and uber-short hair, I am really lucky most of the time.

Song of the day: Belle and Sebastian's "If She Wants Me."