Hello my sweet followers!
Today my beautiful client Liesl let me play with a few new Pravana neon colors. We were stoked on the results!
"A new study shows that men are threatened by confident women taking pictures of themselves, and call these women stupid, socially inept, and ugly. In other news, the world is round, the sky is blue, and the patriarchy is still shitty."
With large moon eyes and soft green hearts, we flee from one overindulgence to another without grasping the consequences of our short attention span. We pour every fiber of our being, every drop of ignorant hope into our desires and it makes each stumble seem undeniably devastating. We crash. We burn. Then we swiftly dust off the ashes and find another flame to engage.
When they say that people fall in love with love, they are talking about the teenagers we once were. I’ve been lucky, blessed if you will, to have such feverish experiences. With each new and typically abrupt relationship, my heart plumped to what felt like double in size. The inflation sent me floating into the clouds, unmasked and unarmed, gleefully exposed and vulnerable. From photographs and hand-written letters graced with adorable misspellings and alarming innocence…from newspaper clippings of proud achievements, shaky sketches, borrowed knit hats and precisely selected mixed CDs, I collected lover’s paraphernalia and kept them bound to my journals - the heart of my existence. I stored each item away and tried to bury them in the furthest corners of my mind each time we severed our ties. Revisiting the baggage only tore apart old sutures and my bleeding heart was left to heal all over again but somehow that made me feel more alive.
Looking back now at each faded picture and every piece of crumpled notebook paper smeared with bold “I love yous” and “I miss yous”, I am offered a certain gratitude for these heartbreaks. Each of these boys held me on a pedestal and I clumsily tripped right into their arms even if for just a few heavy sighs. I was in love exactly the way a teenager is supposed to be: doe-eyed and whimsical. Dangerously head-over-heels, knowing damn well that no one would be holding out a safety net.
I’m not entirely sure when an adolescents love grows into adult love. Perhaps with each goodbye, we learn how to love and trust ourselves more than the mystery. Maybe with each world truth that we are exposed to, we start to realize that magic..those passionate tales of fatal attraction and soul connection that we romanticize in fictional literature…none of it actually exists.
Or maybe…maybe that fever doesn’t disappear. Perhaps we’ve just programmed ourselves to accept that with responsibility comes the incessant need for safety, for home and for reliability. So we bury that fire. We suffocate the flames with bitterness and unspoken resentment and tell ourselves it’s all just a distraction anyway.
There is no denying that love as an adult is a completely different ball game than teenage lust. The question is: how do we bridge the two?
Is it safe to even try?
A crowd of familiar faces can sometimes only make you feel more alone. High fives and hugs all around but still no one feels quite like home. Maybe it’s inside of ourselves that drives us to sometimes stray but the only thing that I’m sure of is how my heart breaks when you’re away.
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July 12th, 2014
Your teenage years are a funny thing. Completely green to the world, you somehow know everything there is about life (despite your actual lack of life experience) and you’ll be damned if you let some idiot elder tell you differently. Then you enter your twenties and suddenly, it can take one single instance to realize that for 5 or 6 or even 9 years, you were completely and single-handedly bullshitting yourself the entire time.
These past few years have been a whirlwind. When I was in highschool, I would have never had guessed what my life would become just ten years later. My backup plan was to get married at 26 and maybe pop out a kid or two but what I truly wanted was to sing. How I was going to do it seemed like a complete mystery and impossible. The biggest obstacle I had to overcome was the fact that I couldn’t sing. Or at least I thought I could sing until I heard myself recorded and then it hit me like a boulder to my stomach when I hit the play back button: I really fucking sucked at singing and even though there were plenty of people who disagreed, I knew they were lying (again, teenagers know everything and I was no exception.)
But I still wanted to do it and I have not the slightest clue why (well, maybe the slightest).
i know, i know…”don’t bore us, get to the chorus…”
People like me hate backup plans. We despise them because we know that if we have to falter to a backup plan, we have failed ourselves and we will let the bitterness eat us alive. At this moment, my life is on the verge of changing once again and who knows where that wind will take me. However, I do know one thing is for sure: now is the time to eradicate any and all backup plans because failure is not an option. I don’t care what I have to do or how long I need to
wait fight, I will see my dreams out with every fiber of my being.
Dreams are such powerful things. Exhausting, liberating, exciting and mostly terrifying but they will wake you up from the death of mediocrity. We need to encourage and support each other more to step out of our comfort zones and take those risks that we’ve been dying to take.
We can’t give up.