Periodically I go through periods of a restless mind. It's been years since I've dyed, hairsprayed, or otherwise paid any special attention to my hair. I still haven't bought any kind of product for it aside from shampoo and conditioner, but I did dye it brown/purple and brought back the bangs. I desired a transformation. I'm going to read Kafka over the break. I've been having recurring dreams about trail heads. I'm either trying to return to one or trying to leave from one. Different people have accompanied me in these different dreams, but the trail head always looks just about the same. I woke up from one and spontaneously bought Grateful Dead's American Beauty album. I haven't stopped dancing to it. And I have a pocketful of notes from the girls I am leaving soon. More on that later. I'm glad I was able to share a moment of standing with a handful of my girls at Body Worlds in Salt Lake yesterday, surrounded by skinless cadavers artfully split apart and propped up, each of us writing down verbatim a hanging poster explaining how it is scientifically possible to die of heartbreak. Stress cardiomyopathy they call it. Resilient hearts can suffer from it, but they bounce back. But the heart keeps the traces over the years. Even the fleshiest places of the body can scar, I think. So I dyed my hair purple on impulse. This is my current state of mind. Bring it, 2009.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
And She Was
Periodically I go through periods of a restless mind. It's been years since I've dyed, hairsprayed, or otherwise paid any special attention to my hair. I still haven't bought any kind of product for it aside from shampoo and conditioner, but I did dye it brown/purple and brought back the bangs. I desired a transformation. I'm going to read Kafka over the break. I've been having recurring dreams about trail heads. I'm either trying to return to one or trying to leave from one. Different people have accompanied me in these different dreams, but the trail head always looks just about the same. I woke up from one and spontaneously bought Grateful Dead's American Beauty album. I haven't stopped dancing to it. And I have a pocketful of notes from the girls I am leaving soon. More on that later. I'm glad I was able to share a moment of standing with a handful of my girls at Body Worlds in Salt Lake yesterday, surrounded by skinless cadavers artfully split apart and propped up, each of us writing down verbatim a hanging poster explaining how it is scientifically possible to die of heartbreak. Stress cardiomyopathy they call it. Resilient hearts can suffer from it, but they bounce back. But the heart keeps the traces over the years. Even the fleshiest places of the body can scar, I think. So I dyed my hair purple on impulse. This is my current state of mind. Bring it, 2009.
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7 comments:
I love it! And I, too, wrote down the bit about the heartbreak at Body Worlds...what does that say about girls?
I dyed my hair once. You can't really bottle color this beautiful. Ha!
My favorite trailhead: leading up to Frog Lake and the Boulder Chain Lakes in the White Cloud range of the Rockies.
But, figuratively speaking, you can't get a better start than a new year! I have written about my love of new starts before (is it tacky to reference yourself? I mean, what if everything you say is AMAZING?), and haven't changed my ideals since then. It's a teeny bit eery that I talk about both my love of new beginnings and my favorite hike/trailhead in this same post from the beginning of '08.
The bangs are totally chic.
I slowly raise my hand, looking around, to acknowledge my part in writing down the broken heart part at Body Worlds as well. *ahem* I'm glad to know I'm in good company. :)
Your hair rocks. Always has, always will. But transformations are so much fun, and I love yours!
Also, I'd like to give Becca props for referencing herself. (Becca, I know we don't know each other, but I wholeheartedly support your action.) Hahha.
Gillz, love you. Love.
Becca and Dee: You two should be friends. I love all of you.
Love your hair. Cool that you could take your girls to the exhibit. I still want to go, but Jeff refuses for some strange reason. (lazy I think)
i believe you can die of heartache. Just watching my grandparents is proof enough for me.
dead-sexy
ooh la la, thanks will-bri.
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