Barber

It is just as important to find what you don't want to do as to discover what you do want to do.

For example, I don't want to work at an upscale barber shop that claims to be hipster where the employees consider themselves to be superior because of their extensive experience and casual attitude toward life.

I also didn't like the floor plan of the place or the fact that there were multiple televisions. TV's do not scream hipster.

I did get a good haircut, which I plan to maintain at a great clips or super cuts or some place like that.

Someone I barely knew at church told me I just HAD to go here because her husband owned it and I'm not really sure why else because I'm pretty sure I told her I wasn't looking for a job. So I went and tried to give the visit a reason by asking for a haircut, telling myself it wouldn't be as awkward as I imagined. No way. "I'm not looking for a job, and I don't really want to be in the hair cutting industry right now, nor do I want to own a shop, but your wife wanted me to meet you.  I assume you will know how to converse with me?"

Turns out he didn't. But he tried.

I left feeling that he did not approve of my "plans" for my life (my plans unless God intervenes, that is) and that he may have been practicing his life-coaching skills on me. He is a "certified" life coach. Uh-huh. He asked me lots of things about where I see myself and stuff and then assured me that things take lots of time and work and that he understands.

Thank you, sir. I can see that you, as a certified life coach, do not see that I KNOW things take lots of time, practice, and effort. You're blind to how skilled I am as a cosmetologist (okay, I told him I felt insecure about my haircutting skills) and how hard I am currently working to become better, and you wrongfully disapprove of the steps I plan to take to improve further.

"Bye Danielle, it was fun!"

I let out a friendly-sounding laugh on my way out the door. At least I thought it sounded friendly.

Vending Machine

Some time ago, I traveled through knarled streets to arrive at the Delaware College of Art and Design. I had heard they pay good money if you are willing to sit still and let people draw you for a few hours.

That is a lie.

I was modeling my face. I was supposed to be giving a slight, Mona Lisa-like smile and based on the drawings and the teacher's comments, I failed miserably and looked very deep in thought, with my brow crunched.

Before the class occurred, I sat in a break room with some vending machines. I had no need of the machines because I had brought my own food. But a guy about my age with fingernails well-manicured and painted a shade of dusty purple strolled in and noticed a bag of chips hanging by a thread inside one of them. It looked as if someone had paid for it and it had not fallen out properly. We discussed it briefly and I, with visions of the one character on NCIS who fennegles snacks out of vending machines for free all of the time, promptly approached the machine and kicked the glass, hard, with my knee.

BAD BAD BAD.

I was on the floor in no time. The machine had not moved, nor the bag of chips.

Moral of story, some of the things you see on TV are not true. Or maybe, only government vending machines are worth fennegling. OR, think before you act.

Last night I attended a photography competition hosted by the CCCC - the Chester County Camera Club. I joined because I wanted to be pushed to use my camera more, and I wanted to be critiqued as well - to have a chance to grow outside of school.

I did not enter in this first competition but I did do the assignment and was able to compare my photos to the others. I felt I was middle ground in clarity and lens usage and technicalities, and very good in composition and post-processing.

I should have entered, but now I understand how things go.

The judge provided excellent critique. He had obvious preferences but gave food for thought.

I liked him because he took time to examine and critique as many photos as he could, even though it got tedious.

And it got tedious.

Oh, there are MORE photos?

But I think he helped a lot of people grow whose photos may not have been commented on by another judge.

I don't feel quite at home. I'm some REALLY young blood. But I will persevere. I will make friends, I will submit photographs, and I will attend these things so that I can achieve my goal of becoming a better photographer.

Felines

Last night I hit my breaks HARD for a skunk crossing the road. I believe I did the community a favor since dead skunks do emit an odor and it would have been my fault.  It was a very close encounter and I very well may have been rear-ended had someone been following me at the speed I was going (ahem, a little over the limit).

I also officially do not have a sleep disorder, which means I'm just tired all the time for no good reason and naps, sleepiness, and fatigue will rule the rest of my life.

I kind of lost interest in everything the doctor was saying to me after I figured out there was nothing she could actually do for me.

I have been given space on a whiteboard at work to do with as I please. I asked for it so all of us could write silly or informative stuff, or messages or whatever.

Prior to my request, full sheets of printer paper had been posted to this board. "We don't want to damage the walls by taping everything up." Oh. But isn't it a little silly to get a whiteboard and not use it for its intended function?  There are even markers and an eraser on the ledge!

So, now I post fun and encouraging song lyrics up from obscure bands nobody else knows. 

It hurts when somebody else erases them after too short a time period, though. Once it ruined my day. The perpetrator admitted because I complained to her, thinking she wasn't the one who did it.

Of course, I feel my lyrics are a quirky and positive contribution to the wax center's culture and when they are rapidly removed, I worry that they are secretly despised by all of my coworkers, which makes me question my validity as a person. That's why it ruined my day.

She just needed to make space for more papers. Told me I should make my quotes shorter.

I requested that, should my additions to workplace culture become annoying or offensive, she should tell me. Her response, "Okay.  I don't have any comments yet."

Thanks. Not "Oh, don't worry, we all like them!"

Whatever. I got over it in a day and I'm not giving up. My favorite part about this endeavor is that I'm not putting up stupid "inspirational" quotes from historical figures and other important people or people who think they know enough to be inspiring. I'm putting up abstract and thoughtful words that can be gateways into hipsterism (and maybe understanding me better, too).

Another note.

I used to experience a great deal of anger toward my two cats when they would yell at me at feeding time.

The situation: I feed my cats three times a day, and at least an hour before each feeding, they begin to become very present and vocal. They touch me, they meow loudly and hoarsely, and they stare wide-eyed at me.

You might think they become silent when the spoon and the can come out, but no. The noise gets louder.

This is where the anger would kick in. "You ungrateful felines! Hold your pants on! I'm feeding you right now and you will get your food when you get it!" I thought they were telling me to hurry up.

One day not too long ago, the voice of God Himself came to me and set me straight. He said, "Danielle, your cats are not unhappy with you; rather, they are singing your praises and thanking you for feeding them!"

And after that day, I feel glorified as I dole out their food and the cats shout praises to my name.

Kisumu

The other night I dreamed that I arrived at the residence of a good friend in Kisumu, Kenya and was unable to greet anyone. I sat on the couch armrest and looked around, recognizing all of her family members but either feeling ignored and rejected by them or else feeling too tired to respond to them. I also saw some friends from America laughing, talking and setting the dining room table through the door in the other room, but they did not see me and there were no greetings.

I had just written a message to this very friend the day before asking if she might send me videos that I could transcribe. I dreamed that she messaged back that even though she had wanted to a couple of years ago, she didn't want to now because the government wouldn't like it. I was hugely discouraged and almost embarrassed for even asking.

I woke up and was happy these dreams were not rooted in reality but rather my mind's worst-case scenario producer.

I want to go to Kisumu but I'm afraid of two things: God may not intend for me to go back, and I may have minimized in my mind the misery of the heat and bug bites I experienced the last time I went there. 

On another note, I have discovered that two non-parental adults talk about my food choices behind my back. They don't just roll their eyes in front of me when I beg for cake; they repeat their concerns enough that their children have caught on.

I don't get cake at home.

Also, the fridges at the household of these adults are yucky, confusing, and unappetizing. Conclusion: ask for cake. Eat health(ier) things at home.

These people don't see the almonds, yogurt, salad, and berries I eat at lunch, or the Atkins-adherent meals I eat for dinner when I'm home. Or the Kashi cereal I sometimes eat instead of Nutella and crackers.

I resent this and feel misunderstood.

Okay, but I am eating a cookie right now. So there's room for improvement. It's a two-way street.

Speaking of streets, can I ask for prayer that I will have love and understanding for other drivers on the road? Lately I've had more passengers and they confirm that I am an angrier driver than others. Being angry accomplishes nothing and only hurts me.

Also, I'll tell you a secret: since my sister is halfway across the country and nowhere near enough to critique my driving, I've been speeding up lately.

This is bad.

Pray?