Bad Hair Day

I believe that the general population of the world has been taught some form of the philosophy, "things happen," and at some point you just have to get over it. But when bad things happen, I feel like I am the only one that has some king of magnetic attraction to crappy circumstances. For example, last summer I worked at Universal Studios Hollywood on the only roller coaster in the park: Revenge of the Mummy. Sounds like a dream job right? Well it would be for someone who has a sick love for all things creepy, terrifying, fast and jarring, but alas it was not.
On one broiling hot summer day,  I had to work outside for three hours because three employees had gone home for various reasons, and we were short handed. And I was especially lucky because on this day, I was working outside in the locker area all by myself when two locker machines went down, and sixty people couldn't get their things out of their individual lockers. It was a joy being called "incompetent" and having people scream at me for vouchers because I was wasting their time, trying to fix the lockers. Good times.
When I finally got my break an hour late, I was just grateful to have a few moments to myself. But like all things unfortunate, my break was cut short because I had to help take a little boy to the nurse after he decided it was a great idea to jump over the line ropes, and he busted his knee open on the ground. But hey, it could have been worse. It wasn't nearly as bad as the day I had to clean up red slushee and chicken chunks off of a roller coaster seat.
Needless to say, after my shift (plus two hours) had been completed all I wanted to do was get home. As usual, I went back to wardrobe, turned in my uniform, put on my clothes, and headed to the metro. In order to give myself a little peace, I turned on my ipod as I squeezed through the people on the metro, and found a nice seat to myself by the window. It's funny how a person can zone out so quickly when looking out of a window, that is until you suddenly look up and see a girl screaming to her mom that her hair ponytail is caught in the metro doors. Oh yes.
Somehow this girl got on to the metro with her back against the window and got her long brown ponytail caught in the automatic doors. Though I was a little horrified and confused, I was grateful that for the first time all day, it wasn't me that was caught in a spectacle. Although I believed she was shocked initially, I also think that she went a bit overboard crying and "hyperventilating" after a good six minutes of recognizing what happened. Even though her hair got caught in the doors on the way in the metro, it was all still in tact as she walked out, so after all the drama she lived, and I eventually got to go home.

Hair Stories

1. When I was five years old, I had a lot of hair to say the least. Kinky, curly, crazy, unruly hair and I just couldn't understand it. I wanted to have pretty long blonde hair like my best friend Sarah. She was pretty. Why couldn't I be pretty like that? Why was I the only person in my class without nice straight hair? One day, Sarah came to class and with her hair cut just above her shoulders and I was pissed! She looked even prettier than before! I didn't understand how it was possible for a person to look sooooo perfect and then look even more perfect. So that night I went home, determined that I was going to look like Sarah, even if it killed me. At five, I was not allowed to play with scissors...but technically I wasn't going to be playing with them. I was just going to cut my hair until it looked like Sarah's. Well after a few (large) snips of one side of my hair. My mom busted in my room (because it was too quiet) and yelled at me for cutting my hair. She then sat me down for an hour while I cried and she tried to even up the other side of my hair. Needless to say the next day when I went to school, I most definitely did not look like Sarah.

2. Middle School is a time of exploration. It's a time to push the boundaries because you are no longer a child, but a teenager. And that kind of thing allots you to do all sorts of things. Dying hair for instance. But, I couldn't actually dye my own hair because my mom felt that was something "adults" did. So like any good friend/ accomplice in crime, I lived through a friend of mine. Her parents actually let her do cool stuff. She decided that she wanted the "Sexy Lindsay Lohan Red." So after school we bought a random box of red dye, (because, hey, it's all the same color right?) and with our amazing thirteen year old skills, we transformed her into a firey red head. Unfortunately, Middle School is also a time of teasing and bullying so she went through a week of being called "Period Head" and "Tomato Top" and I was right by her side through it all. It was in that week that I became grateful that my mom was so uncool.

3. I believe the general population of the world has been taught some form of the philosophy "things happen" and at some point you just have to get over it. But when bad things happen I feel like I am the only one that has some kind of magnetic attraction to crappy circumstances. Luckily on this particular day, I realized that it isn't just me. Last summer, I was coming home on the metro after ten hours of working, and all I wanted was some peace and quiet. Unfortunately I was stunned out of my day dream by a girl screaming because her ponytail was caught in the sliding doors. Needless to say it was an incredibly sad, and long eight minute ride to the next stop.

Thunderstorm

Distant thunder rumbles away

It’s time for the clouds to come out in play

Midnight mumblings suddenly break

For the time has come- make no mistake

Shadow and black

Black and Shadow

Call forth the ominous drizzle

Slipping slowly from my roof top

Then down it pours a little

Calm and quiet with continuous motion

Sway once with the wind

Sway once with the trees

Then back in formation

Just as the peace pulls my mind to gentle sleep

Crackle! As a streak of light busts the air

Severing the Earth with little care

Breaking, Busting, and Blackening the light

Sitting next to my window on a thunderous night

Closed-It is, and there it lay

A Coffin-is a small Domain

by 

Emily Dickinson

A Coffin — is a small Domain,
Yet able to contain
A Citizen of Paradise
In it diminished Plane.

A Grave — is a restricted Breadth —
Yet ampler than the Sun —
And all the Seas He populates
And Lands He looks upon

To Him who on its small Repose
Bestows a single Friend —
Circumference without Relief —
Or Estimate — or End —

Closed -It is, and there it lay

by 

Kamile DePriest

Closed-It is, and there it lay

The Departed it keeps-Still-at bay

Decaying only, lasting tranquility

Once Shut-ls lost in grey

Brittle White,cold lines divide

Slow tears-time has dried

Small demons- Click,Crawl, and Nibble away

Quiet-as the day subsides

Seasons pass-

But there-it lay

Eternity- in an Hourglass

Forever- it will Stay

Unwind

Unwind

by

Neal Shusterman

"There are many places you can go," Ariana tells him, "and a guy as smart as you has a decent chance of surviving to eighteen."

Connor isn't so sure, but looking into Ariana's eyes makes his doubts go away, if only for a moment. Her eyes are sweet violet with streaks of gray. She's such a slave to fashion-always getting the newest pigment injection the second it's in style. Connor was never into that. He always kept his eyes the color they came in. Brown. He never even got tattoos, like so many kids get these days when they're little. The only color on his skin is the tan it takes during the summer, but now, in November, that tan has long faded. He tries not to think about the fact that he'll never see the summer again. At least not as Connor Lassiter. He still can't believe that his life is being stolen from him at sixteen.

Commentary:

I find the very first paragraph of this book to be intriguing for many reasons. One of the first reasons being that it flips the idea of normalcy on it's head. In the world that Shusterman creates, the idea of actually looking the way that you were born is quite strange. Connor has plain "brown" eyes, while Ariana has had her eyes injected with the color "violet with streaks of gray." He also has no tattoo's, (common among kids) only a tan that he gets in the summer.  I believe that having Connor stand out as strange in this world, yet having him as sort of the "average Joe" in comparison to my own, allows me to connect with him as the main character and see this world through his eyes, even though the story is in third person.

This story also catches my attention because in the beginning of the story, I can only speculate why "his life is being stolen from him at sixteen." To me, I feel like the beginning is a puzzle and I am trying to figure out what the connection is between him no longer existing as "Connor Lassiter" and all of the trendy fads going on. When I dig a bit deeper and read carefully it makes me question who is "stealing" his life, and if that is the case why isn't he dead yet?And why did the author choose the world "steal" instead of killed, murdered, or something equally horrendous? If it wasn't his choice to no longer exist as himself, wouldn't it be fitting? When I first read the story it made me draw a parallel between this story and the movie, "The Stepford Wives." I felt that maybe he would become a sort of robot because he wasn't complying with the wishes of society. It made me think that he may not physically die, but maybe just his will and freedom.

The last thing that I find interesting about this opening paragraph is the emotional disconnect Ariana has toward Connor. "a guy as smart as you has a decent chance of surviving to eighteen." The beginning dialogue implies to me that Ariana clearly knows what is going to happen to her friend, and yet she is very nonchalant and matter-of-fact in talking about Connor's survival. This signals to me that either she doesn't really care for Connor as a close friend or that she is trying to distance herself from the situation so that she doesn't feel hurt. The paragraph also describes her as a "slave to fashion," and says that it is common place for "little kids" to have tattoos. I think the significance of this is to show that connecting with people on a genuine level no longer exists. If Ariana cares more about the color of her eyes than she does her friend, then Connor is in much bigger trouble then he realizes at this point. Having a tattoo as a child shows that the priorities of society have changed. It tells me that in this world,  things that have traditionally been seen as "individuality" are now conformity, and that without conformity there is no "true" acceptance of a human being. But despite Connor's horrible situation a simple look "into Ariana's eyes makes his doubts go away." Yes he notices the artificial beauty, but there is something else about Ariana that makes him feel better, which indicates that he is looking at the world a little deeper and not just on the surface. 

This strange, emotional bonding, unmodified person in an extremely artificial world makes you want to find out what happens next.

The Confirmation

"Lola get in here now!"
Lola, a petite girl with wide brown eyes and a shy demeanor comes running to her living room. Her mother is holding a book in one hand and a large wad of cash in the other.
"Explain." she said.
Lola clears her throat. She is getting hot and sweaty.
"It is mine."
"Yours?"
"Yes. I've been saving for over a year."
Her mother looks at her with wide eyes.
"How dare you keep money to yourself. All of those nights that Bahri, Lale, and Nadide went without food-and you had money! This is not like you to be so selfish."
"I'm not trying to be selfish...I want to go to America."
"America? For what?"
"A job..."
"Lola you have a job! You don't need to go."
Mother cups Lola's face in her hands.
"You are so beautiful. There are many Turkish men willing to marry you. You won't have to work this hard all of your life, just until you find a good man to take care of you."
" I don't want to be a seamstress until I get married. I don't even know if I want to get married."

Her mother looks distraught. Mother nods her head in confirmation.

"I always knew this day would come," said Mother "you my daughter are different. I saw it when you were born. The moment I held you, I was afraid that you were already going away from me, and I didn't know why."
"Mother, it's not that I want to leave you-"
"No, it is okay. You are a woman. You are shy, yes, but there is something in you that holds an eternal strength. Something I never had."

Mother lets a few tears fall from her eyes. Lola hugs her mother in comfort.
"Please don't cry. I don't mean to hurt you."
"I know you don't mean to, but that doesn't stop it from tearing my heart apart. I've always wanted all of my children close to me."
"I'm not leaving forever. I love you. I will always be here if you need me."

Mother is silent for a moment.

"Is what you want for your life, so different from mine? Is Turkey really not enough for you?"

Lola contemplates the question, then she slowly nods her head "yes."

Collision

Lola is a young, Turkish, seamstress who works 19 hour days in a sweatshop making colorful skirts

Lola saves enough money to buy a plane ticket to the United States

Lola searches for more opportunity and meets a young, handsome politician with Turkish roots

Lola and the politician (Jeffrey) get married

Lola has enough money to send home to support her hard working family

Jeffrey is insecure/abusive and locks Lola in the house

Lola tries to escape in the middle of the night, Jeffrey gives her a black eye and threatens to kill her

Lola steals the keys to their BMW and speeds away from the house

She speeds so fast through the streets of Chicago that she doesn't see the small dog run into the intersection with a little girl trailing behind.

Lola runs the dog over before she comes to a screeching halt.



Screeeeeeeeeeeeeech! Bam!
Lola hears the sickening crunch of car metal as she comes to a quick stop, hitting her head on the stirring wheel. A thick, dark, crimson wave washes down the front of her wind shield. Lola stares in horror.
"Oh my God. Oh my God!" she cries
Lola sees a small red-headed girl, about six, bawling in front of the car. As Lola steps out to examine the scene, eyes wide and hands trembling the girl's mother comes running into the street.
"ALYSSA!"
Alyssa's mother picks her up frantic. Lola begins to muster the words "I'm sorry."
"Fuck you, you stupid bitch! You almost killed my daughter! Someone call the police!"
Lola begins to feel her chest tightening as spectators on the street stare in shock at the bloody scene. Lola puts her hand to her head and feels a deep gash in her forehead. Plagued with fear, Lola begins to run as fast and as far away from the intersection as she can, hoping that somehow the windy city could pick her up in the current and carry her away.

One of those days...

This blog is a representation of the crap that goes on inside my head. I would like to start my blog by saying something really funny or interesting but for some reason when I am searching for the words to put on a page, they evaporate into thin air. And of course, later on, everything I want to say comes back and hits me like a boomerang, just in time to make sure I have no pen and paper or no computer in sight. Yeah...c'est la vie.

I guess this is just one of those days when I don't really know what to write. I'm hoping at this moment that some sort of inspiration will fall from the sky, but no luck. *Looks up to the sky and shouts* "Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?!" Oh well...

How about some pictures?

Yeah, I think that will be good. Everyone's a bit visual.

Just kidding. No pictures, but lots of love <3