Okay, of course what I should be doing here is telling you about the solution I implemented today for creating the graphics that sported ripped paper effects. (And I probably will, too, soon.) Or about the top 10 reasons I love using Squarespace. Or how I enjoyed myself at dinner tonight with 7 people I've never met before, but will be seeing again tomorrow at ConvergeSouth '08.
In fact there are all manner of things I should probably be blogging about so as to strike the balance in this Completely Made Up By Me set of rules I have never written down but try to adhere to that keeps the flow of this blog rhythmically gliding from personal to observation to creative to lists and rants to things I've found on the 'net that you, dear reader, absolutely cannot do without. (Breathe. I also need to stop pretending to I think I'm Faulkner.)
People, we've got to talk about this whole hair business one more time. (Sadly it's not quite as interesting as telling you my hair is magenta. Fortunately, I guess.) Then maybe I'll have it all out of my system. If you actually know me, you'll know that I discovered several years back that if I stop trying (unsuccessfully) to force my hair to fit this or that style, and just let it do what it wants to do, it is, in fact, fairly curly stuff I have growing from the top of my head. And that's worked for me, too. I hadn't realized quite how much until I let my friend and hairdresser take 6 inches off of it the other night and awe me with her Round Brush And Blow Dryer prowess. Even made her give me an in-depth lesson.
What was I thinking? It seems I do not have the skill to style my own hair and make it look half as good as Heather can make it look. (Pity I can't afford to just hire her to do this for me every day, eh?) And? Even if it had remained as pretty as it looked the second I finished styling it tonight, instead of getting all funkywavy later on when a bit of humidity came into play, I have an admission to make. I do not have the patience to spend a half hour every day styling my hair. Are you kidding me? They don't make enough Adderall to compel me to stand in front of the mirror doing what you have to do to get this stuff to stay straight!
Tomorrow I will be getting up earlier than I usually do, and making an unprecedented decision. I'm going to return to my typical curly style - with a cut that may or may not work with these curls... then going in public with a bunch of people I do not know. Way to plan, Melody.
A more observant reader might point out that this is probably not the blog post I want to publish the night before I pass out a bunch of business cards. And that reader would be right, too. But there you have it. I'm having girly hair issues and tonight instead of already tucking myself into bed as I should have when I returned from dinner, I'm blogging about it. Chances are the people I give my card to (if any of them actually visit my site, that is, and if any of them read to the end of this post,) will completely understand the urge to Just Get Something Off Your Chest every now and then. Being bloggers and all. No good reason and nobody really ever wanted to read it? Not your finest writing hour? Check, check. And yet you keep on writing.
Guess I'll have to actually write something thoughtful next time, eh?