Saturday, October 3, 2015

97: my husband’s oscar wig

My husband and I were trying to find this one specific wideshot image from the Oscars and we were googling him and this one weird photo came up of him on stage with the oscar and what looked like a red target maybe, off to the side by his shoulder. We click and it led us to a hair loss or hair replacement forum where they were discussing his hair. A bunch of people were saying that his hair was a wig. The target photo was a photo in favor of the idea that he wears a wig and the circle was to highlight how his hair lay at the back of his neck, proving the point. They also thought it because you cannot see a part in most photos. Alas, they are un-familiar with silky asian hair. They went on and on comment after comment about how he wore a “full cap” and that he had too much hair for is age and how his hairstyle was “Bieber-ish” and too young for his age. Then there was a whole crew really into his hair color and trying to pinpoint it, wondering if it would be called ash brown, or black, or what. It was most hilarious. We got a great laugh out of it.

It was amazing to experience personally what people on the internet do. How free they are to trash someone without shame, someone with low level celebrity, anyone really. It reminded me of just how silly any of us sound if daring to talk about the way someone else looks. Some of the comments were vicious and had it indeed been a tender issue, it might really hurt. I had recently been called out on something I posted talking about someone’s looks, written 8 years ago when I was a bit more raw, relative to a story about my mental changes and seeing someone differently, and although I thought I was keeping it anonymous, I heeded the point.

Notes to self: Don’t judge or criticize other people’s appearances. Don’t read about yourself online. Don’t believe anything you read on line. Don’t think you know it all, because you don’t. If you are curious, go to the source and ask. Always remember that what other people say about you is a reflection of them not you. And most important don’t piss off Tom, or he might stuff his wig cap in your face and blind you with his shiny round head. Well, he wouldn’t do that, since he is kind and doesn’t wear a wig cap, but I might. I have been known to wear an afro puff or two and some falls, ala Bardot, now and then. And who knows, I might be completely bald underneath it all, after all I am almost 50.  Laugh a lot, it feels so good.

Or studio/classic
Both worth checking out

Friday, October 2, 2015

98 bottles of beer on the wall.....

I read this today and found it so interesting and it rang so true to me. I hope it helps someone, and of course it relates to girls as well. I just want to keep inviting anyone who wants to listen, particularly myself, to stay present, be available, sit through the hard work and get the payoff, the gold of human connection.

In regard to the huge increase in the diagnosis of attention deficit Disorder, now called ADAH, Lawrence Cohen writes in Playful Patenting, “..I think many attention problems in boys are really attachment problems. They have more to do with the boy’s cup being empty or leaky than they do with any inability to process information. No one can process information properly or pay attention well if they don’t have the secure base of good attachment. Stanley Greenspan write  ‘The active energetic child soon leans to seek in stimulation the satisfaction he cannot find in intimacy.’ Then of course all that racing around makes him hard to be close to. Thus the impulsivity and scattered quality of some boys diagnosed with ADD may simply be a side effect of a deeper problem, an inability to connect.”

Connection can be cultivated. All transformation is possible. xH

Thursday, October 1, 2015

99: it is hard to give something you never got

99 days till 50: Today I was a really good mother and gave my kids all the love and attention and kindness they needed and it was exhausting, so I ate chocolate to have the strength to go on. Being present and available is not my forte, but I work hard at it, because it is so worth it. As I said many times before, it is hard to give something you never got. But alas, changing the historical pattern of generations changes the world. That being said,  can I tell you how unrewarding it feels? It is so boring and uncomfortable to do the deep inside work despite it being worth it. And this applies to ANY change you might want to make, lose weight, stop an addiction, let go of clutter, stop dating unavailable people, change you life……

Ok, so a rocket is off course 90% of the time. It constantly veers off course and is brought back. Those minor adjustments make all the difference in regard to the final destination. It can make light years of difference over time, yes? A small correction goes a long way in the arc of a rocket or the arc of a lifetime. The reason people fail to make those corrections is mainly because there is no external validation in the work. The work to change feels sluggish, depressing and uncomfortable because we are literally carving new neural pathways in our brains, fighting against the current of the path of least resistance. Going against the current is not comfortable, it is going outside of everything you have ever done and everything you know and it is hard work and unfamiliar and thus very uncomfortable. And, there is NO PAYOFF, for a while at least. It just feels terrible and for me depressing, because there is no drama there either. Whatever payoff you get from the behavior, you certainly do not get from changing it, so why bother? Why?  Because all that stands in the way of you becoming who you want to be and having the life you desire, is a stretch of depressing discomfort that will indeed end. If you move through it, knowing that there are no cash and prizes for a while, you will find the gold. I promise. Do yourself the honor. 

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

100 days till 50, in 100 words

I have been talking about turning 50 for so long that you may think I already am, but I still have 100 days till I’m half a century. I propose shaking things up and doing a count down of what is great and what is going on for me as I celebrate this period of life before being half way to 100. Today I jogged after dropping my daughter at school and stretched with my son crawling over me. I cannot believe how magically lovely my family is. I am thrilled by life. Won’t apologize for bragging. Thank you universe/dollface.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

photo shoot 1970

I saw this woman on a game show with straight shiny anglo hair, cut in a neat bob and parted on the side with one barrette holding it in place, almost exactly like Margot in The Royal Tenenbaums, except 30 years earlier. I adored her look. Oh, man, was I ever going to copy that style for my photo shoot that week.

Day of my shoot I parted my thick bushy Puerto Rican Irish hair to the side in a big tangled mess and put the barrette in place, just like the lady had it. I put on a navy wool turtleneck with a zipper up the front with a round metal zipper pull at the throat paired with a red wool mini skirt and red tights and brown crushed patent loafers. I finished the look with a yellow-smiley-face-with-googly-eyes-that-moved pendant on a long chain.

As I left for Kindergarten that morning, photo day, my mother said that I needed to take off the necklace but I protested. She squashed the argument by saying that it was too much metal for a photo and that I could wear the necklace to school but I had to take it off for the photo, and that if I didn’t the photographer would ask me to take it off anyway.

My heart beat in my chest as I defied my mother and left on the necklace for the photo. I just could not bear to mess up the look. I waited as my turn approached to see if the photographer would agree with my mother and tell me to take the chain off. He did not. I still have the photo. It is way too personal to share right now. It fills me with so many feelings. Use your imagination.

Yes, tomorrow is photo day at kindergarten and my little fashionista has her look picked out, including a green velvet glitter dress. Like mother like daughter. Amen.

Monday, September 28, 2015

"hey biker, don't maul my fall" -holly

One time this biker gang member, who ran in some of the same circles as me, liked me and I was sort of horrified. His gang was the real deal and I was so not down with that stuff, the violence and un-reachable un-reasonable un-touchable separate-from-the-rest-of-the-human-race quality. Not my thing. Never gonna happen, no way. One night he was walking past me in a nightclub and my fall (which if you don’t know, is a wig, a hair piece you wear with your own hair to make it supersonic larger than life, long fat hair) got caught on all the stuff on his leather jacket and his walking by jerked my head and mauled my fall and he seemed really embarrasses as he and I had to untangle our selves. Tre uncomfortable.

Nothing ever happened but we did cross paths many times and once, at a friends request, he drove me home after a gig and helped me get my Marshall amp up 4 flights, which was very kind. I needed the help. Later he was about to beat up an employee of mine due to a misunderstanding, not kind, and I stepped in and cleared things up and saved the day. Urg.

Anyway, my impulse was very judgemental and compartmentalizing, that’s what I do with everyone who might be an enemy or who I might be scared of, for whatever reason. He is “blank”, stick him in that box and lock it, end of sentence. Eventually, because we would be forced to interact several times, I had to figure out how to still see him as a human being while keeping my boundaries. Boundaries can be like brick walls for me and again and again I am asked to still have them, but with a little more breathing room. Its a great practice for me, a needed practice, and i appreciate the opportunity whenever it occurs, even though it i shard. Still a big challenge for me, it is easier for me to cut you off with an ax, than to engage and politely have my boundaries, but I am getting better. Thanks. xxH

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Preteen love

7th grade I think. He asked me out and I said yes. I liked him but I was terrified of dating, of commitment, of the unknown, of kissing for the first time. What exactly was expected of me? What was I to do? How should I know? What the fuck were all these feelings, liking someone and then all this other stuff?

He had walked me home, pin straight hair falling into his eyes. He looked pretty good until I looked down. He had on pointy leather lace up shoes and he had an umbrella. It had stopped raining and the ground was a depressing damp. Sorry but that was a deal breaker right there- POINTY shoes and an umbrella. I had already said I would go out with him, but I knew that I needed to change my answer. I ran home and could not sleep all night knowing what I had to do the next day. I could almost die from the anxiety of going out with someone with those shoes. 

The next day in school I broke up with him. Phew, it was over.