saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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It's all in the bangs.
I would just like to point out right away that Mike Doughty is avoiding me. Specifically me. On purpose. He has many shows on the east coast, right? Especially New York, where he lives. And here�s me, wondering, �What about the west coast? What about Salt Lake? What about the love?�
And when he finally does a show in Salt Lake? (Yes, I�m sure you know where this is going, Smartypants McSmartness). When he was in SLC, I. Was. In. NEW YORK.
So I know he�s doing it on purpose. He�ll come to grips with his conflict issues sooner or later.
I�ll wait.
I also wanted to let you all know that in my early 20s, I discovered that I had the remarkable ability to defy sickness. And by defy it, I mean laugh arrogantly in its face, trip it in the hallway by the lockers, and steal its milk money.
(If sickness had a face, that is. And if it had a face, it would assuredly look like Renee Zellweger. I�m sorry, kids. I can�t see a picture of her without thinking, �Dear GOD, that woman has a handle on the Specter of Death look. Bravo.�)
I used to dodge illnesses. I�d ward them off through sheer force of will. I was Superwoman. I would shit Health.
Now? Not so much. Everyday, run-of-the-mill shit, these days.
Yes, I was recently sick (again). And I�m fairly certain this latest bout included an ear infection. I�m guessing this because I got very dizzy at times. Other times, I got light-headed. Sometimes when I was light-headed, and one of my co-workers was talking to me, I�d start to black out. And then I�d fall down, and I�d wake up lying on the foyer floor with my co-worker looking at me in concern. And I would say, jocularly, �Ha HA. That was embarrassing!�
And we would get a good chuckle out of it. Sometimes.
Speaking of amusing things � similar to fainting, and health shitting, and therapy for crippling humiliation after fainting (Co-worker: �OHMYGOD, you�re bleeding out of your ear! You�re missing a limb! Your hair is on fire!� Me: �Oh, well. Wait, did anyone else see me fall DOWN?!�) � I cut my hair last month, quite a bit shorter than it was before. And I got me some bangs, too.
Bangsbangsbangs.
When I fall asleep now, my hair doesn�t bounce back like it used to. Especially the bangsbangsbangs. You see, since I have a tendency to fall asleep (anywhere, anytime, and usually on my face) when I�m not in constant motion, when I wake up, the bangsbangsbangs on one side are sticking up, waving, reaching out to people to say, imploringly, �The owner of the head I reside on was just asleep on her face. This is not my fault. Send help.� Bangs can be such finger-pointing bastards.
I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the windows on the way into work the other day. The wind had blown my hair into disarray, and not the stylish, what-do-I-care-how-I-look disarray that has grown in popularity and usually in line with the number of iPods sold to date. I looked ruffled and messy, like a child, like myself at eleven or twelve years old.
I had to stop and look for a few seconds more, taking in the spring breeze, and thoughts of how summer vacation would arrive soon, and popsicles shaped like rockets, and my Huffy bike hand-me-down from my brother, and Blondie on the radio.
This is a good haircut.
Now if only I wouldn�t fall asleep on my face.
3:20 p.m. - 2005-03-10
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