The calendar on my phone reminded me today that my daughter and I need haircuts.
Like the ever-loyal Horatio says to his friend Hamlet: “There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave, to tell us this.”
Hamlet on the upswing. Sort of like the Elizabethan version of Captain Obvious.
This realization hit me again, just a few minutes ago, when I considered the new job I am starting, and the early hour at which it begins, and I pondered if I should go back to a pixie haircut that I can wash-and-go with some product… and… ummm… uhhhh…
You know it’s bad when you hit up a family Facebook group to see which cousins know how to cut hair, and rank them by their proximity to you. (The closest is an hour away).
Actually, true story, my query set up a domino effect so now all my family members are listing their skills and resources in that group (i.e. gardening, childcare, education from birth to just under a Bachelors degree, French/Spanish/German/Mandarin/Arabic instruction, sewing, baking, cake decorating, party catering, technological support, any type of service you could get at a day spa, legal advice, dental work, 24/7 nurse hotline, vocal and dance instruction, carpet cleaning, all-you-can-eat pizza buffet, etc.)
It’s kind of sweet and kind of overwhelming. With a whole lot of “rules are for other people.” Because that’s my dad’s family to a T.
Also on the bright side: I now get packages from Amazon that I only faintly remember ordering. And not because I was drunk. Or because I’m a victim of brushing. It’s just that the system is overwhelmed and moving like cold tar. So it feels a bit like Christmas.
And, yes, you read that right: I am starting a new job, new company, new business, etc.
Because I didn’t want to live and/or die at Walmart, either as an employee or a customer.
It’s getting scary out there on the front lines of retail. My new job is still minimum wage (I have plans for the future, but right now, I’m okay with minimum wage) and it involves a commute BUT I’m guaranteed 30 hours and the intangibles are off the chart.
I need money, but I also need to make a difference.
The former I can get almost anywhere if I try hard enough. But if I don’t have the latter in my life, I am not a happy camper. And that’s putting it mildly.
In the meantime, I am going to finish a certificate I need online so I am in a better spot for similar employment come … well… whenever the world starts to spin around again.
Also in the meantime, I have such a crush on John Krasinski after Jack Ryan. I would like to say it was a chaste crush, but it isn’t. I think the term you are looking for is DILF.
But I think I would lose out to his wife Emily Blunt, if I’m being blunt. So, rock on, John.
I have written 14 poems about rooms in a house, tools and hardware items, instruments, and I am racking my brain for the title of the ebook of poetry I plan on publishing by the end of April. I was going with brick and bone but that doesn’t really incorporate the instruments very well. I could jettison those to another ebook and write a few more poems about house and hardware, I suppose. It might come to that.
Right now, I have this poem about instruments to release. If you don’t see it immediately, here’s a hint: it’s not exclusively about an instrument.
do not think about your fingers;
instead, about your feet,
when the note that hangs and lingers
is anything but sweet.
perhaps you affront an heirloom
and you are still so green.
perhaps the strings need a hard groom
and your strikes are not clean.
perhaps the keys are broke and bent,
curved with abuse and sweat.
perhaps you thought you had talent
but haven’t found it yet.
there’s nothing like a baby grand
to make you feel so small;
but keep yourself still well in hand
and present your footfall.