The importance of a good hairdresser.

The same girl has done my hair for over five years.  She does an awesome job, and when I move to Florida, she is coming with me.  End of story.

She has fixed many, many of my attempts at coloring and cutting my own hair. I honestly can’t recall how many times I have sent her late night text messages that simply say, “I need you.”  I’m confident in stating that aside from me completely shaving my head, there isn’t much I can do to my hair that Becca can’t make better. 

This weekend, Joey and I decided that we were going to dye our hair.  I knew that I was getting mine cut ,and  getting pink and purple tips put back in today, so I decided to just knock out the all-over color on my own.  I chose a simple, medium brown color.  I have had enough hair-dying mishaps to know what colors and tones to avoid.  Thanks to a wonderful job by Katie, my hair turned out exactly how I wanted.  It looks natural and it is actually pretty close to what I imagine my real hair color would be.  (I’m not sure I have seen my actual hair color since I was about 17 years old.)

I’m not going to go into loads of detail about the end result of Joey’s hair, but let’s just say that it did not turn out as expected.

Now, Becca has not only saved my butt, but she saved Joey’s as well.  Joey’s hair is no longer a brilliant shade of maroon, but a dark, lovely brown. 

This afternoon, Becca will see me and my perfectly colored hair and be so proud of me for not jacking it up like I usually do.  She will think that for once, she will have an easy job in front of her and that she won’t be spending the majority of her time doing corrective work.

Then, she will see the candle wax.

This is what happened: I went to unplug my laptop charger from the wall yesterday.  No biggie, right?  But for some reason, I had my hair down.  I NEVER wear my hair down.  It’s always up in a messy bun type thing up high on the back of my head.

Joey has one of those candle warmer contraptions, and she keeps it on the end table.  You know?  The things that melt all the wax in the candle so it still smells fabulous, but there isn’t the danger of having me around an open flame?  

When I bent down to unplug the laptop, a large portion of my hair evidently decided to attempt to make a home in said melted candle.  I was completely oblivious to the impending disaster until I raised up from unplugging the charger and felt a wet, searing pain all down my left forearm. 

Yup. 

Not only had I dipped my hair in melted candle wax, but a steady stream of the wax had dripped from my hair directly onto my bare skin.

Getting the wax off of my skin?  It didn’t feel great, but it wasn’t too hard to do. 

Getting the wax out of my hair?  Yeah.  That one didn’t happen.

Poor Becca. 

One day, she will just get to cut my hair without having to figure out how to fix what I have broken.

Today is a good day.

I know it is kind of early to proclaim the day as a success.  I know that I’m probably jinxing myself, and as soon as I publish this post, the ceiling will fall in and in my attempt to run away from danger, I will slip on a banana peel and break a bone or four.  

But as of right now, at 11:18 a.m. Central Standard Time, today is a good day.

I’m wearing a very light-colored shirt.  And I just ate a breakfast burrito from McDonald’s that was completely smothered in hot sauce.  Usually, this ends in disaster.  I either have to go home and change shirts, or I walk around the rest of the day smelling like a mixture of picante and egg. 

Not today, my friends.  Not today.

My shirt is spotless. 

This goes down in the books as a win.  A big, big win.

I’m taking Joey’s engagement pictures this afternoon.  I’m equally excited and nervous about this. 

I’m excited, simply because Joey is one of my best friends (and my roommate).  I’m confident in my abilities, and I have no doubt that the pictures will turn out well.

But I’m nervous because I’m not totally sure our friendship will survive the shoot.

When I take pictures, I’m kind of bossy.  I have to be.  I know what looks good and what doesn’t look good, and I see things from a completely different perspective than the people who are being photographed. 

Most of the time, I just ask my clients to trust me.  Trust in the fact that I know what I’m doing and that they won’t be disappointed.

Joey, however, has had to help me get earrings untangled from my hair.  She has had to teach me that cats use litter boxes and don’t have to go outside with the dogs to use the bathroom.  She has looked at me and said, “You’re not really wearing that, are you?”

Now, I’m expecting her to have enough faith in me to take pictures that capture who she is and the love that she and Robbie have for one another. 

I can’t wait to see how this afternoon goes.  Ha.

Even if she ends up not liking me after the shoot, the pictures will be awesome. Plus, she is stuck living with me until April.  I will have plenty of time to win back her good graces. 

But really, I have no need to worry.

Because after all, today is a good day.  

I need sleep.

I’m one of those people who absolutely HAS to have sleep in order to properly function.  It’s actually quite pitiful.

These past few nights, however, I have been getting less than four hours of sleep per night.  I’m used to at least 8.  My body is starting to revolt.

I’m twitchy.  I’m irritable.  And I feel like the insides of my eyelids are coated with sandpaper. 

The phone rang at work today, and as I answered it I was looking at something on my Facebook page.  I generally answer the phone here by saying, “Smith Law, this is Jessica.  Can I help you?”  Today I answered as follows: “Thank you for calling Facebook.  This is Jessica.  Can you help me?”

The poor lady on the other end of the call stammered for a few seconds and then said, “Um, maybe? “

Only then did I realize that I said something strange.  It sounded perfectly normal in my head. 

It’s completely my own fault that I haven’t been going to sleep at a normal hour. 

But I’m still angry about it.

A lady I work with brought me an orange back from her lunch break.  She said she could tell I was getting sick and that I needed to get my vitamin C.  Yeah.  I look that rough.  I was too tired to tell her that I actually feel fine, just suffering from an extreme sleep deprivation.

I sliced the orange up, excited for a mid-afternoon snack. (The pint of Blue Bell Southern Blackberry Cobbler that I had for lunch didn’t really fill me up today… sad.)  The very first bite I took resulted in a steady stream of citrus juice directly to my eyeball. 

Seriously.

How does that even happen?

I’m not sure I have ever lusted after anything like I’m lusting after my warm bed right now. 

Today, I feel like an adult.

I will be 28 in March.  That means that in a few mere months, I will be two years away from turning 30.  30 is only ten years away from being 40. 

When did this happen?  And how can I fix it and make it stop?

In my head, I still think I am 23.  Unfortunately, my body does not agree with me.  I neither look nor physically feel 23 anymore, but mentally…  I’m still there.

I don’t eat well balanced meals.

I sit Indian style, regardless of whether I am in a social or professional setting.

I’m kind of obsessed with “that’s what she said” jokes.

If I tell you I’m dressing up, I just mean that I am wearing a nice hoodie… not one of my old faded ones.

Maybe I’m not 23 emotionally.  Maybe I’m closer to 13?

Regardless of my refusal to become a real grown-up, today I managed to tackle what I consider to be a fairly adult task, and I didn’t even have to call my Daddy for assistance.  Not even once.

My car now has a tag, and my new title should arrive in the mail within six weeks.  Yup.  I braved the tag commissioner’s office all by myself.  

I’m not going to lie.  It was a little scary and overwhelming at first, but I dug in my heels and refused to be defeated.  And by golly, I handed all the necessary documents to the lady on the other side of that glass and signed in all the designated places like a champ!

I know.

This doesn’t seem like anything monumental to most people.

But this is me we’re talking about here.

A victory, regardless of how small, is still a victory. 

Please still be my friend.

I read all the time.

I read everything.

I read The Hunger Games trilogy in less than 24 hours.

I read To Kill a Mockingbird multiple times each year.

I read reference books.

I read self-help books.

I read classics.

I read vampire fiction.

I read the books that make fun of vampire fiction.

I read the shampoo bottles when I’m in the shower.

In all sincerity, I read anything that falls into my hands.

I have loved to read since I was a kid, and it’s something that just never went away.

Generally, I am super thankful for the fact that I am so well-read.  My love for books is one of the huge reasons I chose to obtain a degree in English Education.  I absolutely love it when a kid who claims to “hate to read” gets super excited about a book and ridiculously invested in the characters. 

But it is kind of impossible for my love for all things literary to not have an effect (Daddy spent a long time this weekend teaching me the difference in affect and effect... I think I finally understand it.) on my everyday life. 

I went to a Halloween party on Saturday night, and a costume was required.  There were some awesome costumes there.  We had Mary Poppins and Bert.  Fred and Wilma Flinstone were in attendance, as were a honeybee with her own personal beekeeper. 

Me?

I went as The Tell-Tale Heart.  Yup.

I dressed up as a dismembered body part from an Edgar Allen Poe short story.

Thank God for my Daddy, who loves literature as much as I do, who took time out of his afternoon to help me build this costume.  Yes... power tools and linseed oil were involved. 

No, I wasn’t allowed anywhere near the power tools.

For this reason, I still have all of my fingers. 

I have decided it’s a good thing that I am a huge nerd.  It is.  Because if there wasn’t something to counteract my level of awesome, the world might explode.

My Exciting Friday Night

This is how wild and exciting my life is: my plans for tonight consist of sweatpants, FRIENDS reruns, Oreos, the couch, and Ellie Mae.

I like to live life on the edge.

If I start feeling REALLY crazy, I think I may finish the last book in The Maze Runner series.

Today was exhausting... both physically and emotionally. 

I didn’t get to bed until late last night due to my need to spend excessive amounts of time on the phone with certain out of state friends, so 7:00 AM came incredibly early this morning.  I mean, the conversations that took place are undoubtedly worth the lack of sleep, but dang. I’m pooped.

A surprise encounter with a certain he-who-shall-not-be-named did not go so well, and that sucked the life right out of me emotionally. 

Needless to say... not the best day.  I totally deserve my lazy night. 

But you know what?  Even though today has seriously sucked, it is impossible for me to ignore how fantastic my life is.  In the midst of confusion and pain, I have a ridiculously amazing support system, and they’re not going to let me down.

I don’t get “preachy” on here often.  I really don’t.

But the way that so many people find ways to daily show me how much they love me, it is impossible for me to not see God in their words and actions.  Because of the love and support that have been lavished upon me from the very start of this whole mess, I have never once felt as if I was walking alone.  Not once. 

I bet that there aren’t many people who have gone through what I am going through who can say that they’ve never felt alone. 

Gah, I’m blessed.  Even on days that get me down, I love my crazy, beautiful life. 

That’s all there is to it.

Now, it’s time to fall asleep on the couch, while eating Oreos and watching FRIENDS.  At 6:00 on a Friday night. 

(Who says divorced women don’t know how to live it up!?!)

35 Days.

In 35 days I will be hopping on a plane for a weekend trip to see two of my best friends in Virginia. 

I’m pretty excited about this. (I only do a countdown for something if it’s super important.)

Kind of like the whole moving to Florida thing… I haven’t started a real countdown yet, simply because it’s still a lot of days away.  However, I do know that it is less than seven months.  And that excites me beyond belief.

But back to the whole Virginia trip… I am flying out of Huntsville at 6:30 a.m.  I will then arrive in Washington, DC at 9:24.  I leave DC at 10:30 and arrive in Boston, MA at 11:56.  Finally, I leave Boston at 1:20 and arrive in Richmond, VA at 3:05 p.m.

Yes, the random, funny stuff that happens to me is what makes up the meat of this blog, but I’m praying that for this one day, my life is normal and uneventful.  I’m sure it would make for a wonderful post, but I would really prefer it if this trip goes perfectly and according to plan.  I’m shooting for no disasters and no missed flights.  I’m 27.  Surely I can travel unattended, right?

The night before last I got an earring stuck in my hair.  Not just kind of stuck, but so stuck that I had to wait for Joey to finish brushing her teeth and washing her face to help me get it untangled.

Two weeks ago, I had the same misfortune with a round hair brush.  After my attempts at freeing the brush, all you could see was the handle.  That situation required the assistance of friends as well.

A few months ago, I tried to throw my gum out of my car window as I was driving down 72.  Yup.  It came right back in the window and found a home in my hair.  That particular incident required a quick “fix it” job with scissors and then an emergency hair appointment to correct the damage.

My boarding passes can’t get tangled in my hair, right?