Shrinking Violet

History of Hair Color

I have colored my hair religiously since returning from Jerusalem.  For the past seven years it has been every eight weeks, give or take, or bust.  When I lived in P-town, my hairdresser would always forget who I was.  I would call her to set up an appointment and when I showed up she'd introduce herself.  Eventually she started asking "Do I know you?" instead, because I looked vaguely familiar from 8 weeks ago.  Or 16 weeks ago.  Or 24 weeks ago.  This went on for 18 months, but I liked the way she did my hair so I didn't switch (plus I was afraid).  I think I'm one of those people who is not pretty enough or ugly enough to be remembered, and for the most part I'm okay with that so it doesn't hurt my feelings much when people don't remember me.  I expect it. 

Eventually I moved to Salt Lake and got married.  Due to a long sad story, my dad gave me the credit card to do as I pleased in planning the wedding.  Since I needed a new hair stylist, I of course went to the most expensive chi chi place I could find that could get me in with two day's notice...I had gone about 12 weeks at this point and, let me tell you, my dishwater blond roots looked black next to the shade of blond I had become by then.  I went to a nice woman named Marcy for all my bridal hair styling needs.  (As an aside, she convinced me that my very short bob would look good in an updo, so if you see my wedding pictures and think, huh that's an...interesting hairstyle, that's why.  It's not terrible, but probably not my best hair styling moment.  I'll find a picture and post it.)

Marcy did my hair for a couple years and then she decided to go on a mission.  I complained to my little sister about this--my little sister who has never been withing 50 yards of a girlie salon kind of establishment and particularly within a 50 yards of a bottle of hair dye--and she burst out in hysterical laughter at my pain, mostly because apparently all her little friends were undergoing the same separation anxiety from Marcy.  Odd coincidence because it's not like there is a shortage of places in Sandy that will give you blond highlights and, as I said, I found Marcy because she had no clients.  She just happened to be a good hair stylist so I kept going.

After Marcy left I was despondent.  My roots again grew to unthinkable lengths, and after more than 8 weeks (probably around 12 weeks again) something had to be done.  I again called chi chi salon for an emergency appointment.  The stylist Marcy had recommended couldn't do my hair for another 10 days and, since it was a complete emergency (you think I'm kidding), I decided to go with someone BRAND NEW.  My hair went from blond highlights (variations on a few shades, none of which were created by my DNA) to flat, bright, blond-from-a-bottle.  The horror, the horror.

That was when I found Jana (from a random girl in my office), who has done my hair for lo these 3 years.  She does not work in a chi chi salon.  She works in a weird office building next to a Great Harvest Bread store.  She charges 25% less at least than chi chi salons and for the most part does a wonderful job.  She's made a few missteps like the flimsy greasy bangs and the odd kool-aid red, but they were always straightened out within a visit or two. 

One of my friends who has a fancy schmancy hair doing education saw me during the flimsy bangs stage.  She has been hinting around ever since that I should change stylists.  I've thought about it, I won't lie, but Jana makes me set up my next appointment as I leave. I believe this is to avoid my panicked "MY ROOTS, I CAN SEE THEM AND THEY'RE HORRIBLE CAN YOU FIT ME IN THIS AFTERNOON" phone calls. 

Last week I completely spaced my hair appointment.  Didn't go.  Thought it was this Wednesday, but it was last Wednesday.  Am brilliant.  And courteous.  I feel like a complete moron.  The thing is, though, she didn't call me to see where I was (I have missed another appointment in the past).  She hasn't called since.  This is starting to feel like this might be my window to try out someone new, but I feel bad leaving Jana like that.

Thing is, my roots are starting to look gray.  They're not gray, they're dishwater blond, but my hair color for the past year has been Diana Barry brown, which shimmers beautifully and makes my roots look, well, gray.  I need to decide quickly, do I call Jana and beg for mercy? Do I go to the salon recommended by my friend (it is conveniently within walking distance to my house)? Do I ask other friends for recommendations?  I have to start school in 3 weeks, people.  I am having a panic attack! What do I do about my hair??

Sundance Report

Next year I am going to more movies and seeking movies where a director/writer/castmember shows up for q & a. It doesn't cost $10 to see a movie in this city under normal circumstances (okay, I quibble over $2.25 here) and under normal circumstances I don't have to sit on the balcony of a dance auditorium looking down on the screen. Seriously. Nonetheless, the movie we saw last night was excellent.

The Secret Life of Words starred Tim Robbins, who has aged quite well I must say. I thought he was pretty funny looking in the Hudsucker Proxy era, but now he is quite handsome. Maybe it's the gray hair. Anyway, he's a guy who gets burned during an oil rig accident and Sarah Polley is his nurse. And he's blind and she's deaf. Sort of. I thought it was going to be sooooo hackneyed. I loved the way the director used silence. Sarah Polley's horrible past does seem to come out of the blue, but it fits. She acts exactly the way one would expect a person to act who has gone through something that terrible. I heard lots of people sniffling, but luckily the movie comes to a happy-ish ending. You never know at Sundance--lots of sad endings.

Last week we saw a documentary called DeNadie about Central Americans immigrating through Mexico to get to the United States. It was heartbreaking, no particularly happy ending as is true with life. The director/creator was on hand after to answer questions. At that movie, I felt like I got my $10 worth. That movie might come out on PBS or something, but chances are I wouldn't see it anywhere besides Sun dance. And the filmmaker was an incredible individual. It seems like I and many others in this world can turn a blind eye to human suffering that doesn't touch our lives directly. The filmmaker for this move, however, was some kind of engineer in Mexico when he learned about these immigrants and the difficult journey they face. He felt like he couldn't just do nothing so he made the movie and even helped some of the people in the movie.

I love movies. Especially good movies. My goal this year is to see more movies at the Broadway and Trolley and less at the megaplexes owned by a certain local business mogul.

Happy Thoughts

Yesterday was a good day. Zach had the day off work. We slept in, watched some football, went to a movie, and went out to dinner. If I didn't still have occasional fits of painful coughing I would have felt bad that we didn't go skiing or snow shoeing. I got snowshoes for Christmas LAST YEAR and I still haven't used them--we were finishing our house last year and this year I was busy until I got sick.

Anyway, we went and saw The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe which was oddly violent for a children's movie. I loved it, though. It was mostly true to the book and very pretty.I knew the chapter names when the scenes changed because I've read the book so many times. A couple of places seemed to try too hard to make the allegorical connection with Christianity, particularly Aslan's speech to Susan and Lucy about what was supposed to be Deeper Magic from Before the Dawn of Time, but it wasn't too annoying. Susan got to use her bow after all, though it was after the main battle was over.

Z left his wallet at home so we didn't do any shopping after and we had to go home before we went to dinner. This turned out to be good, though, because we went to Ruth's Diner up Emigration Canyon for dinner. I don't generally eat meat, but I got the charbroiled salmon with Romano cheese mashed potatoes and yummy vegetables. It was nice.

Finally, two of my professors have posted our reading assignments so I can at least attempt to get something done during this week without anything to do. Also, I've managed to get most of the Christmas decorations down and I've run the dishwasher. I feel better already.

New York Dolls

I've got a rotten cold. Have I mentioned this. It's gone from maybe a tissue an hour or so to chain tissue use. My nose will be irreparably red for the next week. Thrilling.

Anyway, in spite of feeling a little high, I've managed to finish my contracts outline and I'm moving on to torts and civil procedure. Last night I had had enough of law school and outlines and head colds, so Z and I decided to go to the movies. We saw New York Dolls, a documentary about the bass player in a glam rock band I'd never heard of. It was funny and heartfelt in a not-cheesy way. The band must have been important because Morissey is featured quite prominently in the movie. Also, the bass player, who rides public transportation to work in the church history library in Los Angeles, had a number to contact Morrisey. Crack me up, a guy who looks three steps from homeless can just call Morrisey up on the phone.  I liked it even though I probably won't be running out to buy a New York Dolls CD (they weren't bad, just not my style so much). There were lots of funny moments, which I will not spoil because I think everyone should see the movie.

The other time waster in my life is Pandora, my best Internet discovery ever, maybe even including blogs. Also induces almost as much time wastage as blogs. It's this custom radio station creator. You put in the name of a band or a song and it comes up with other bands and songs that you would be interested in. I have created five stations so far: Indie Rock (Music similar to Tegan and Sara, Rilo Kiley, Spoon, The Shins, Iron and Wine) Mostly Guitar (Music similar to Dave Matthews, Jack Johnson, Ben Harper, David Gray, Melissa Ethridge, Sheryl Crow, and Tracy Chapman) Bluegrass-ish (Lyle Lovett, Alison Krauss, Dixie Chicks, Ryan Shupe, Sam Bush, and Antigone Rising) Ray Charles (based solely on Ray Charles so far...I watched Ray last week...It was great, I highly recommend it) and Dance Music (based on Prince, Madonna and Michael Jackson, okay I'm lame).

So, my first final is this coming Friday and I'm making radio stations. Hey, Starship just came on my Prince Station!! Gotta Go!

The Movie I Will Not Admit To Seeing

I worked 16 hours on Friday and then 11 hours Saturday bringing my grand total for the week to approximately 67. When I got home around 6:30 on Saturday night, I decided I needed to go see a movie. I tell you this to justify the movie I saw. I do not recommend it to anyone whose mind is not lodged in the gutter. I say this particularly to my readers who come from the Nauvoo forum, which based on my stats is most of you, because you will probably not enjoy the MIWNATS

That being said, the movie I saw was hi-larious, like tears running down my face funny. My personality is such that chick flicks, they do not appeal to me greatly. A good chick flick occasionally is okay, but most of them are so hackneyed and overly sentimental I just want to puke. The first half of the MIWNATS especially appealed to my loathing of fake sentimentality. The two main characters, divorce mediators, start off the movie by getting a couple to set aside their differences by recalling the fun of their wedding, focusing most especially on the food and the band. The movie then shows them attending weddings and hooking up with lots of desperate women. My favorite line, which I believe was featured in the previews, was when Owen Wilson tells some woman "You know how they say we only use 10% of our brains? Well I think we only use 10% of our hearts."

Of course, they end up falling in love with their prey at one of the weddings and more hilarity (though not quite as much as in the first half) ensues. I really really liked the boyfriend of one of the leading ladies who told stories about saving otters from oil spills and about the time that some indigenous people somewhere mistook him for God. That story included the line "and I realized that they thought I was God. And I thought I was God too." The final dramatic scene that takes place in a cathedral during a wedding ceremony was hard for my willing suspension of disbelief, but there were still some good lines in that scene as well.

So, to all of my fellow residents of the gutter, you might want to go see this movie. But don't you dare say that I recommended it because I will deny having seen it in the first place. As the NY Times says, MIWNATS is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian). It is promiscuously ribald and features an assortment of impressively endowed, partially clothed women.

Hard(ly) Work(ing)

My dad/boss is in Argentina. He has left me in charge of the biz and his apartments. I worked 13 hours on Saturday so I feel justified in a little down time, which at work generally means shooting the breeze with office friends instead of making semi-important phone calls (the kind that can totally wait until tomorrow). So besides (honestly) intensely working from 8:00-10:30 this morning, my day has mostly consisted of talking to my loan officer about a v important investment property loan. And Fish and Owl Creek Canyon and Buckskin Gulch hiking trips. Yes, important business it is.

I was surprised and relieved that after about an hour away from my phones I had only missed two calls and a fax that were easily taken care of. Now I’m having a hard time moving on to the millions of little to-dos that really need to get done this week sometime. I’ve already gone downstairs (my office is on the second floor of our building) twice to get my diet coke fix.

I’ve noticed, as I’ve discussed hiking/backpacking with different people, that not too many women are interested in adventures that do not involve comfortable beds, frequent showers, and easy access to shopping. I do understand this to a certain degree but I’m so enchanted by the backcountry’s solitude and scenery the sacrifice of usual vacation amenities seems more than worth it. Perhaps I am lucky to have a husband that loves me even when I look like this? Perhaps this is more evidence of my “uniqueness”? Maybe I'll think about it a minute longer while I continue to avoid doing actual work.

Random Babble

Well, my client got the house, for now at least, though I am quite suspicious that he will be backing out on inspection. Ah, well, such is life.

And Pink Floyd, thank you for commenting. I have nothing to say about War of the Worlds because it has such a lame ending that any small bit of entertainment I got from the beginning and middle dissipated like air from an untied balloon. Also, I am not a big Tom Cruise fan, creepy little man that he is, especially in light of his recent puzzling (read: fake) relationship with Katie Holmes and rantings about anti-depressants and vitamins.

Today I am worried. I read this post on Times and Seasons that makes me think that, yikes, what if no professors at the U. like me just because I'm LDS. I took an excellent conflict resolution class up at the U. last year. I didn't mind that I was in the minority as a Mormon. In fact, after 4 years at BYU it was a breath of fresh air to have some different perspectives--not that there aren't different perspectives within the church but it's not quite the same thing.

However, one time I played the mediator in a role play that revolved around religious issues. Mediation ethics require the mediator divulge any potential conflicts of interest so I mentioned that I am Christian. One of the participants demanded to know which particular Christian religion, and when I told her, she scooted her seat over a little bit in disgust. My heart sunk. It might have been my first realization that a person may choose not to like me because I choose to be a member of the LDS faith. Afterward she told me it was part of the role play and her best friend is Mormon. I still felt bad in spite of myself.

I am also worried because my dad is going to Argentina tomorrow, leaving me in charge of the business. This in itself is typical, and even the length of the trip, twelve days, is little cause for concern considering I've covered for twice that long during my Realtor stint. So I'm not sure if it's because this time I only have a part time assistant who works according to her own schedule or if it's because one of our primary clients is a registered sex offender or if it's because I'm trying to tie together all of my loose financial ends before law school begins, but I am having trouble concentrating and I can't seem to fall asleep. But I'd best be trying to fall asleep so maybe I can come up with something more coherent to say tomorrow.

Batman Begins

Sometimes I get the impression that the little boys that live next door to me think that Zach and I are large children. I say this because Danny, a six year old, continually asks me where my mom and dad are. He seems genuinely confused that our household consists of me, Zach, and the cat--though part of that may be because he is afraid of the cat and can't imagine why anyone would keep such a monster as a pet. When I realize how many movies we go to, I start to see why someone might think that we are large children, though. Grown up people do not go to this many movies. Neither do children, I suppose, but they would if they could.

Anyway, Friday night (yes it was the first night the movie came out) Zach convinced me to go see Batman Begins. It was really good. Of course, ya'll might want to take that with a grain of salt seeing as I really liked that Batman movie that had the Seal song, "Kissed by a Rose". I remember seeing it with Natalie and Brynn. They hated it, so I lied and said I hated it too, but I remember that I really liked it. Of course, even back then I knew in my heart that it wasn't a good movie; I just really liked the love story.

I've since entered a much more critical phase of movie watching, though, and I'm pretty sure this was a good movie. I didn't much like the love story though--Katie Holmes seemed so generic. Christian Bale, on the other hand, gives a positively delicious performance as Young Batman. One reviewer thought his growly voice was cheesy and unnecessary--and Zach agreed with that--but I thought it was fabulous.

The beginning of the movie seems like it might be unrelated to the rest of the movie. While we were watching it, Zach thought they were spending too much time on the back story and should get to the action. The great part of this movie, though, is that the back story and the action are intricately related. Chilling, really. The whole movie is kind of chilling. At one point it makes an interesting allusion to Sodom and Gomorrah. It also poses questions, albeit not terribly deep or complex questions, about how we treat the poor and what it means to make a difference.

So, if you're hankering for a big budget Hollywood blockbuster movie and you've already seen Revenge of the Sith , this is a great one. I would definitely watch it again on an airplane and I would consider adding it to my DVD collection.

Cheering Up

Today was a good day, but the kind of day that conspires against website work. I got over the small case of blahs that plagued me last weekend by getting my hair done and getting my house cleaned. Everything is better when you don't have roots and you don't need to mop the floor. My sis also cheered me up by directing me to this album...listen to the 60 second clip of the song Twentysomething because it is AWESOME!

Because the house is immaculate--which I think will probably only last the couple of days, and because my hair looks its very best--which I know from experience won't last more than a couple of weeks, I wanted to post pictures. My digital camera has been lost for some time. By lost I mean buried in the depths of boxes that contain items I do not use and should mostly be donated or trashed. I have, after all, survived without their contents for over two months without missing them. So I decided now was a good time to sort through the boxes.

I found the camera after about 10 minutes, but I was already into the organization process. Best not to stop in the middle, at least for me. I've found that I really really suck at going back to big projects. The little junk piles would have been frozen in time for at least 2 more months if I stopped when I found the camera. Happy to say that my office full of junk is now neatly organized into 3 banker boxes. I should be getting my desk this Friday and then I will be able to put away all of the stuff from those boxes. I must admit, though, that there are a number of items that were in the boxes in the office that are now in the basement, but I can't see them when they are down there so it is definitely an improvement.

Sadly, after snapping a few photos to post, I realized that I do not have the cord to hook the camera up to the computer. Hopefully I'll find/borrow/buy a cord by tomorrow so I can post a picture of my lovely red hair.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith

This week Zach and I watched the Simpson’s rerun where Homer and Mel Gibson decide to redo Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. They change the ending so instead of the triumph of American democracy, we instead see Jimmy Stewart mow down the senate floor with a machine gun. Eventually the capitol dome explodes for no apparent reason. This is the kind of violence present in Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

I had a hard time understanding exactly what it was that Mr. and Mrs. Smith did for a living. Like I get that they kill people, but why and for who, not so clear. And I suppose it doesn’t matter, except that my willing suspension of disbelief kept wavering, especially in the scene with seriously armies of assassins at a place that resembles Wal-Mart. It just didn’t make sense.

I must admit I’m not down with Angelina Jolie in general, partly for the whole home wrecker thing, but also because of her oddly shaped alien lips. Also, she scares me. Brad Pitt was quite delightful, however, and they had some witty banter and good chemistry between them.

All in all, if I were on an airplane and this was the only movie to watch, I probably wouldn’t watch it again. But if I were on an airplane and I hadn’t seen it before, maybe I would. It wasn’t horrible, but the whole movie, it just seemed very…gratuitous.