my one beauty!

July 14, the day I had designated as "cutting day," came. I washed my hair twice the day before just for fun, to feel my hair as I ran it through my fingers. I luxuriated in the washing process: massaging my scalp as I shampooed, combing dangling conditioner through my long locks, then applying a conditioning mask that I left on for 5 minutes before rinsing. I let my hair air-dry and left it down as much as possible so I could enjoy its weight and the feel of it against the skin of my back. I knew it would be years before I would be able to rejoice in that sensation again. And so it was cut. Just like that. Tony, my stylist, divided my long, golden locks into two pigtails and hacked them off in an agonizing 3.24 seconds. I then gingerly placed my cut pigtails into a Ziploc bag so I could donate them to Locks of Love, knowing that they would bring someone else joy.

Tony worked her stylist magic and an adorable cut appeared! It has taken me a few days to adjust, but I can honestly say that I am now able to recognize my short-haired self in the mirror. It is so much easier to take care of and I do feel more fresh. This hair screams "Adventure, here I come!"

progress, why do you elude me thus?

So, I have been working on my room and I have managed to go through all of clothes but for some reason there appears to be little to no evidence of any sort of progress in project "Clean out Rowan's room." Part of the problem is that our moving sale isn't until July 12/13, so whatever I decide I want to get rid of can't actually be moved anywhere. It limits my sense of accomplishment because my junk is still sitting in my room and looks decidedly worse since it is now in garbage bags.

It's perhaps poetic in a way to think that after my divorce, about a year and a half ago, I came to live in my garage room and brought all of my possessions with me in garbage bags. They were stacked, filling up about half the room. It took me several months to go through them and set my room up, making it homey. Now I'm once again putting my life's accumulation of things into garbage bags, only this time the goal is to rid myself of everything that I don't need or that doesn't have sentimental significance. I am once again a bag lady, this time on a journey back to the basics of a self-hood that will not be determined by material objects.

Here is a lovely Erykah Badu song about being burdened by baggage.

c'est un désastre extraordinaire

I began the process of clearing out my garage room—which contains all of my worldly possessions—with a light heart, thinking that I didn't really own that much and that it really wouldn't take me all that long. I am now thoroughly discouraged. *sigh* I suppose I have to discipline myself to working on it at least an hour a day. A bit at a time is how I should get the job done, but Kevin seems to think I'll be scurrying about at the last minute...probably true. *sigh*