Sitting across from my husband at our kitchen table, I was watching the “Boondocks” and shoveling Chipotle into my craw when I say to him…”Do you think I should shave one side of my head?” He contemplated for a moment. My husband and I have many times had discussions over whether or not I should shave my head. He isn’t the type of guy to tell me what I can and cannot not do with my hair because I am a grown up woman and I’ll do what I damn well please and he respects that. However, we talk about how square my face is and we decide maybe it isn’t such a good idea.
But suddenly, he looks at me contemplatively and says to my utter surprise…
“Wait until Halloween and then shave it and you can be Furiosa and I’ll be Mad Max for Halloween.”
So I shove a little more Chipotle in my mouth and after I finish that last forkful of Tex Mex goodness, I go into our closet and pull out some old photos of 25 year old me.
She shaved her head. She rocked it, despite her young adult insecurities.
There are a few things to contemplate before such an adventure again. Mostly dealing with the comments from strangers (as with anything like this, especially where I live) draws attention and I’ve always been a weirdo magnet.
But we’ll see.
I think I’d make a wicked little Furiosa for Halloween. 😉
Whilst I have a day job…Friday is my second favorite “F” word.
Have a happy one! I’ll post art this weekend!
I am changing this blog for the rest of the year to be an art blog. One of my plans this year is to make a painting (or something artful) once a week and share it here.
Hope this works for you, if not…well thanks for being around!
In my teens I was a journal enthusiast. I wrote down ALL my teenage angst into notebooks of various assortments. I won’t lie, it got me through a lot of hard things and it gave my unrelenting emotions a place to go. Even into adulthood I continued to write in a journal pretty regularly. It’s when I became MORE of an adult or at least in my 30’s when I kinda stopped doing it.
I don’t know why. I mean, I’m sure there are a bazillion reasons why…mostly involving my crappy relationships, school and life stuff in general. Eventually I stopped writing altogether as there never seemed to be time and well…my brain works much faster than my fingers can write in a notebook. I’d end up with scrawl I couldn’t read.
However, there is something so important about journaling. The way I am able to record what has happened to me. My memory isn’t always the best and the human mind has a tendency to remember things different after a period of time. Writing it down daily serves as a memory bank for me. Shows me what I endured, celebrated and progressed with.
Seeing as how I no longer enjoy writing the old fashioned way (pesky fingers can’t keep up) I wanted to find an alternative. I thought…
There is an app for pretty much EVERYTHING these days so how about a diary?
And yes. THERE IS. *cue music now*
I haven’t purchased the full version yet, still trying it out, but so far I love it. The reason I love it so much is it’s very accessible. My phone is usually always with me so at any moment if I want to write something down, it’s right THERE! And my typing can keep up with my brain. It also allows you to add photos and rate your feeling for the day with a face. It’s cute and convenient. It also has the ability to back up what you have written and you can password protect it.
Anyway, thought I would share that! Hope your long weekend was great!
Lazy creatures. 😛
I have a friend who LOVES Disney. He wasn’t so good with WordPress so he asked if I could help him get a layout and what not. Give that a look see if you feel inclined.
It’s been a lazy Sunday and I’ve been sick most of it. Cycle starts next week (sorry TMI) and that pretty much knocks me down entirely so I won’t be training, I’ll be begging for mercy and wishing I didn’t have a uterus. 😀
Anyway, have a beautiful week ahead!
Lola’s post dog park face. 😛 DERP.
No training today. I’m exhausted and hormonal and I woke up feeling hungover (even though I don’t drink.)
Some days are like this. I wake up, feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. I’m learning the art of self care so I’m deciding to listen to my body.
I did 15 minutes of yoga and a 10 minute meditation instead. I felt a little better afterwards, so clearly that is what I needed.
My coaching husband says some days that happens and it’s okay.
So I’m off to more self care and cleaning (which I find therapeutic.)
Can you figure out which one is the weirdo? 😛
I follow a lot of yogi’s. Most of them are beautiful men and women, who bend into beautiful shapes. Their lives seem perfect, balanced and the antithesis of my life is right now. It’s annoying…haha! But…I know they have been at this for years, they are not perfect and each has their own journey and story to tell about how they found yoga.
I know…yoga is NOT about how you look. It’s not about how bendy you are or aren’t. Yoga is about getting into your body, out of your yakking head space and finding some peace. It’s being mindful and allowing the body to heal. At least for me.
I do yoga to help with anxiety and depression. For me it’s better than being on medication or flipping out.
My yoga is usually filled with a Basset Hound in my face, walking around me, under me, trying to chew her bone on my mat (or walking into camera shots! :P)
My yoga usually has the noise from a television in the back ground if The Husband is home, the clank of dishes, the sound of cars and people. It’s rarely a quiet affair. My yoga is dog hair in my face, on my clothes and on my mat. It’s wireless headphones (but needs to be wireless ear buds) and trying to focus on the music, the poses and not the noise inside my head.
But through it all…most days I can focus on just the yoga and everything else falls away and when it doesn’t, I do the yoga anyway. Much like life, my yoga is messy, inflexible at times, uncomfortable and other times it’s an amazing experience where I learn something new about myself.
So here is a glimpse into my messy, inflexible, Basset Hound filled yoga practice. A few poses I chose from tonight’s practice.