Thrift Book Reverie

** I wrote this post about 6 months ago, but rediscovered it while filing through some of my unfinished pieces.  It felt really applicable to the way I've been feeling lately, so here it is. **

It’s funny the way things get under your skin.  And not in the way that you think, where you feel irritated by it or mad; more in a way that you feel energized in such a way that you can’t stop thinking about it.  Do you ever find yourself in a place, surrounded by an energy that just motivates you to do something?  Maybe the Olympics does it for you, motivating you in the start of the year to keep focused on that new goal you've made or maintain commitment to that new exercise routine you've started.  I find that I have that feeling of inspiration or motivation at seemingly random but frequent intervals.  I’m not sure if it’s because I am constantly searching for something to do with myself or if it’s because I am trying to allow myself to be open to things.  Either way, I find myself being inspired by things all the time, but often struggle with maintaining the energy of that motivation for longer than a couple of hours.  Story of my life.

This morning I stopped by a used book store near my house in search of a specific title.  In putting together a gift for my girls turning 30 this year, I have been on the hunt for a book I read about a while ago called 30 Things Ever Woman Should Have or Know By the Time She’s 30.  Apparently we shouldn’t have learned anything about brevity – which is good, because I struggle with that concept.  At any rate, I had never been to this book store before and was reveling in the moment of quiet, child free book perusal once I walked in.  Savannah was at daycare and it was the first time I let myself wander into such a place in a really long time. 

I immediately felt the warmth of the words, sentences and ideas filling the room.  I looked around and was in awe of how beautiful the books looked on display and how comfortable it felt in there.  I easily could have lost the entire day in that store.  Anyway, somewhere between The Best American Short Stories of 2007 and The Purpose Driven Life I realized that there was not a single copy of the book I was looking for.  Disappointing, yes, but what I really felt as I read through the titles along the shelved walls was nostalgia and happiness.  A renewed sense of something I love and have loved all my life.  I came across titles I hadn’t seen in forever – works of literature that had, at one point or another, made me laugh or cry or reconsider a previously held understanding of something I thought I knew.  I found myself, just for a moment, wishing that I was back in college with my copy of Bastard Out of Carolina, under a tree on the quad with nothing but a Nalgene full of water, a snack and the time to read a book.  No pressures, except the expectation that I would finish the book and have something meaningful to say about it by the time class rolled around.  Oh the beauty of hindsight – realizing now what a beautiful thing it was to spend a day like that.  What I wouldn’t give to have reading a book and writing a paper be some of my only responsibilities for the day.  Isn’t it true that we so often take for granted the gifts we have in the present?  I’m currently trying to get better at that, but it doesn’t stop me from lingering over thoughts of what fun I’ve had in the past. (And, yes, I recognize that the fun of which I speak in this instance includes the activities of reading and writing.  Nerd alert!)

As I stood in the aisle, surrounded by books wearing the signs of their use, I kept thinking about all of the books I have read in the past and all the ones I still have to read collecting dust on my shelf at home.  I couldn’t bring myself to walk out with any more, cringing at the thought of those I already have at home, which I purchased in many other stores like this one and still haven’t once cracked the covers.  In that realization I had two thoughts:
 
1) I really need to find a way to work reading back into my daily life, and

2) I should be well on my way to writing something substantial by now.

Both of these thoughts made me sad for a moment.  Sad that it is so hard for me to organize and motivate myself to do things sometimes, like read and write, and sad that, although I have all of these thoughts in my head I can’t make thematic sense of them to put together a complete piece of work.  Once those thoughts were through my head, though, I continued to look at the books on the shelf before me.  Some of them may sit here for the next 2 years without even a glance and others that will get purchased like my own at home and never be read.  Who’s to say that if I wrote a book it wouldn’t end up as some random worn paperback on the back corner shelf of a thrift book shop?  That's not a defeatist attitude, by the way, just an honest notion.  Not exactly a motivational thought, but still one I have as my eyes graze over titles like Oral Sadism and the Vegetarian Personality and Worst. Person. Ever. that have probably only been sold to a handful of people who turned it right over to the thrift dealer.  

I snapped myself out of it.  What kind of outlook is that anyway?  If I am going to write something and try to get it published, I have to realize that, in the end, I am really doing it for me.  Then, I have to be comfortable with the idea that maybe only a handful of people, outside of those who will buy it out of support for me, will read it.  If I'm honest, to have something I have written bound and in print will be, in and of itself, a true victory - I'll worry about distribution once that's a legitimate concern of mine.  I guess I have to remind myself that writing, like teaching, goes like this: if you can reach at least one person in a positive way and effect some change for or in them, you have done your job.  With that realization I turned on my heel, let my fingers graze the books as I walked past them, and took myself out the door and back to the house.  I will write a book one day, when I am ready and have something useful to say about something I know a thing or two about.  Until then, I will just keep practicing.  In the end, I didn’t find the book that I wanted in that thrift shop.  Regardless, I think I still may have found some of what I didn’t realize I was also looking for.

A Long Needed Change

I make things.  It's sort what I do - something I'm proud of.  I have always joked about this with people, typically when I first meet them and they have experienced something I have created.  I say, "Oh, it's nothing, I make things - yummy foods, crafty things, beautiful babies, long flowing locks, the list goes on."  So that's the joke. 

But, for real, I love to make things.  One item on this list that I end up creating, though, that doesn't take much effort and tends to be more inadvertent than anything, is my hair.  I have always had exceptionally long hair.  It grows at an alarming rate.  When I was younger, I didn't get my hair cut or done very often because it wasn't that important to me and I felt like it was an expense that we probably could do without.  Plus, in the frigid Northeast, super long locks kept my neck warm on days when I forgot my scarf.  When I got to college, though, my Sophomore year roommate saw a picture of me from 5th grade in which I looked almost exactly the same as the present day.  Between that and my admission that I couldn't remember the last time I had my hair cut, she dragged me to the mall, made me cover my eyes and, behind my back, told the stylist how much hair to cut off.  Now, of course, I was a willing participant in this adventure and felt a sense of freedom and relief with my new, very short hairdo; however, it took her motivation (and her car) to get me in the chair in the first place.  For that I was so grateful.

Since then, I have had a handful of experiences in cutting my hair off, but usually after having let it grow for what many might consider an inappropriately long amount of time.  These days, if my hair is crazy long, it is probably because I have every intention of getting it cut and, inevitably, don't.  And not because I don't want to get my hair cut, it is just the item on my "To Do" list that tends to get kicked to the bottom over other, higher priority items.  I had every intention of cutting off my lengthy locks back in May before my husband came home from deployment.  However, at his request, I kept it long until he got home, swearing I'd cut it within a week of his return.  Needless to say, that didn't happen.  I got so swept up in his homecoming, the trips we took and the huge move to Monterey, my hair just didn't make the cut.  Ha, *ba dum bum*. 

Well, friends, here I am again at the end of a long road of hair making and have finally gotten up the gumption to cut off my long lengths.  I owe it all to my friend Kristin, who I was visiting in Steamboat Springs, CO on my first momcation away from my kiddo.  She had already scheduled a hair appointment for herself and, knowing my desire to make this much needed change, asked if while her hair was setting if I could get my hair cut.  The stylist, who was appropriately named Savannah, jumped at the opportunity to help me recreate my look.  As always, any time I cut my hair off I donate whatever I can.  Last time I did Locks of Love, so this time I chose to do Pantene Beautiful Lengths.  After over 2 years of growth, with quick trims here and there, I give you the full length:

When I stand up, it touches my butt...

The 2 12 inch ponies

And the after shot! 

 

So, there you have it!  14 inches later (the 12 inche ponytails plus what was taken off to straighten and layer it) and people keep telling me it is still really long.  I have to admit, even after two weeks, it feels like it's practically at my ears.  I really love it, though, and with my aim to make 2014 a fantastic year, I have a renewed commitment to make an effort in this area!  A weight has been lifted and I'm starting the new year off right.  Anyone want to take bets on how long I end up going before I get around to cutting it again?