Hair Scare Part 3

When Last we left my f'd up beauty-school hair, I had a blueish streak that I color-corrected back to brown. All was well (except that a hunk of my hair had been fried off). But when I needed a "tint retouch,"(known in layman's terms as "getting my roots done") the color was left on too long (at the teacher's insistence) and my hair was black. (That would be a number "2" on the color scale of 1 to 12, "1" being blue-black and "12" being platinum blond.) So we stripped out all the black and for twenty minutes my hair looked like the picture at the right. Carrot top!

Yesterday was also the closing prayer service for Religious Ed. Teaching that class was such a challenge, but I am so glad I did. It was such a gift to have the time, and to be asked to

do so. The parents, and even the kids, were so appreciative.

It was so crazy to one minute be in beauty school, putting up pin curls on a mannequin head, listening to the girl next to me tell a story of giving her boyfriend head in the bathroom of a UDF (United Dairy Farmers -- a 7-11 like store for all you non-Cincinnatians); and then literally TEN MINUTES LATER be sitting in a meeting with a bunch of women wearing sweat-shirts with teddy bear appliqués talking about what music we need for the prayer service. Totally surreal; but at the same time, so real it's gritty.

The other thing that happened yesterday -- Mars (remember Lamar, from "up the hill?") got expelled. Something about a big fight, girls ripping the weave right off each other's head, cops called and on top of all that it seems he frequently cusses out the Faculty and Administration.

And, did you know, they make Jordon's with high heels?!

Blogging

Towards the end of the fall I got bogged down in the culture of blogging; and pretty much stopped writing. I spent time figuring out Google analytics and then checking it all the time. I spent time reading the blogs of "successful" bloggers looking for clues as to what made them popular. I spent time reading books and articles about how to blog and how to monetize.

What I didn't do was write.

Part of not writing is the pressure "to blog." And that pressure, combined with the overwhelming nature of this journey that I am on, had me thinking about what I would write, but not writing. This journey is often funny, some times dark, some times uplifting, frequently spiritual and once-in-a-while deeply disturbing.

Today I am committing to writing. Actually, I am committing to Journaling. Just jotting down what happens every day. If I can tie it all up in a nice package every day that would be nice; but if not, at least I'll have a record of all the joy, intrigue, inspiration, sadness, nostalgia, creativity, learning, disgust, wonder, craziness and FUN.

"What you do for the least of my brothers, you do for Me"

Last Friday I volunteered to cut hair at Haircuts from the Heart at the Franciscan Center in Over the Rhine. ("OTR" has been dubbed "the most dangerous neighborhood in the country." http://tinyurl.com/mwxpsr).The small salon provides haircuts to the very poor and homeless. The day we went, there was a special event honoring veterans. Clients didn't have to be a veteran to get a haircut, they just had to walk in (and register at the desk.) Normally the cost of a hair cut is $2 or a bag of crushed aluminum cans; but last Friday, all haircuts were free. (There was also free lunch provided by Lee's Chicken.) At the same event last year, Haircuts from the Heart gave close to one hundred haircuts in five hours.

I'm not sure how many cuts I did. Eight? Nine? I know that the four of us students did a total of fifty cuts between 9:30 and 2:00. And I did more shampoo's than cuts.This mission is run by one Sister Bonnie -- a tough cookie who is genuinely full of grace. Her mantra is speed, speed, speed. She wants 'em in and out. Quite different from school where it's all about client service, consultation, creativity and precision. Sister Bonnie wants it done right, and done FAST.

It was a transforming experience for everyone involved. Both practically and spiritually. The salon is small, with only two chairs, but we pulled in a couple more for the event. It was crowded, but so happy. These guys were so happy and pumped to get their hair cut and washed, to have us talking to them like salon clients. And, like anyone getting a much needed hair cut, they left feeling great.

In a down moment, I asked Sister Bonnie if she was a cosmetologist or a nun first. She told me that she had been a nurse (and a nun) for years and years before she heard the reading from the Bible "before you pray, wash your face and comb your hair;" which was the inspiration for her mission. As we're talking, she pulls her iPhone out of her pocket and starts checking her email. I said "Wow, you're a cosmetologist nun with an iPhone! That is awesome." She is, truly awesome.

http://www.haircutsfromtheheart.org/Site/Welcome.html

OG

At some point, a few months ago, Isis started calling me "OG." I can't remember why.

Urban Dictionary defines "OG" as: An OG is normally a member of a gang Who has been around for some time and has put in a large amount of work e.g. Killing enemy gang members. Therefore he is considered a more respected/ higher class member in the gang.

Isis came down the hill last week, and the "OG" nickname is catching on. Pretty much everyone thinks it's hilarious; but it is also lending me quite a bit of cred.

Yesterday morning I was feelin' very saldy 'cause I couldn't find my grade sheet. The grade sheet is critical 'cause it's turned in at the end of the month and entered into the computer, sent to the State Board and loans, financial aid, graduation and licensing exam date hang on it. I couldn't find mine in the file with the other day students, or the night students' file. That combined with recently having "lost" a mannique head, a blow dryer, and two foiling combs was making me pretty pissed.

Isis came in about 11:00 -- "How you doin' OG?"

"I'm having a bad day and feeling saldy 'cause my grade sheet has disapperd. So now in addition to my mannique head, foiling combs and blow dryer I have no grade sheet."

"You think someone took it?"

"I don't know, maybe, but it's pissing me off."

"Well that's the problem with being an OG; people gonna steel your shit to prove something. You gonna have to kill someone. You know; to make an example."

"With my luck it'll be someone I like and I won't be able to do it."

"Yeah, that happens."

Five minutes later my grade sheet was found in the other night student pile. So luckily I don't have to kill someone.

Beauty School Hair Part 2

I wanted my gray streak to make me cool and edgy. Like Stacey London, Sharon Stone, Emmylou Harris, Jamie Lee Curtis or Meryl Streep. What I got was a swatch of light yellow, very damaged hair. At least what was left of my hair was very damaged. I decide to "fix it" myself with Pravana Color Silk. They make an intense silver and I thought that would do the trick. The instructions said to leave it on for 20 to 40 minutes. I left it on for forty. Because the hair was so damaged, it sucked up the tint, and the color of the product, leaving my streak with a blueish gray hue. Several people at school told me I should just go back to the original brown. I ignored it until Diva said "Miss Cynthia, that just ain't you. How can you have hair like that? I mean how are you going to go to the supermarket like that?"

"Supermarket! How can I go to church like this?! Diva you are totally right." I said. Sadly, I'm just too old and too upscale for crazy beauty school hair. So now I'm back to my original color. (Sigh)

My marketing head needs to tell you that Pravana Color Silk is an excellent product for intense color -- I've use it often and if you've got the youth to carry it off, it's fabulous.

Beauty School Hair

I held out for six months, but yesterday I finally got jacked up beauty school hair.

It actually started about three months ago when I decided I needed something a bit more hip and thought a single silver/gray streak would be just the thing. One of the contestants on the reality show Shear Genius had all-over silver/gray hair with a black streak; I thought it looked cool and that I'd just reverse it. (http://www.bravotv.com/shear-genius/photos/amy) Since I'm 90% gray letting a streak go natural wouldn't be difficult. So for many weeks I've been growing out a little piece of gray. I'd be hesitant to get the existing color in my "streak" stripped out because I was afraid it wouldn't work, would ruin my hair, or would just be weird. Then last week there was an article in the New York Times: "Young Trendsetters Streak Their Hair With Gray," -- now that my choice was validated by the august NY Times. (http://tinyurl.com/ybjouhy) How could I go wrong?

I went wrong because I allowed myself to be the model for yesterday's color class. There was a lot of experimenting and little client consultation -- not how we would treat an actual client. See that bowl of hair over there in the picture? That's my BLOND hair that disintegrated after being bleached out for an HOUR. The idea was to strip it out, then put silver in. The silver didn't take.

I guess that's what I get for attempting to be a "trendy hipster."

New Target

The last time I had any contact with elderly people was over twenty years ago when my parents were still alive. Now in the school salon, I'm getting to know about this new "target." I'm as fascinated by these women as I am by my much younger fellow students. Since we charge $7.50 for a wash and roller set we get a lot of seniors. I watch them and think "how old are they?" I really had no idea. But I know they're really, really old. Now I know that some of our regulars are well into their 90's.

A client I had last week came in again yesterday. She was having her hair done by another student and I went over to say "hello" when I finished my client's do. She told me that her children are trying to fix her up with a 89 year old man:

"Which is fine 'cause I'm 89 too. The told me that he was a WWII pilot and a professor at Miami University, and that 'he's so nice you'll really like him.' So I figure I'll go to lunch. I like going out to lunch and maybe I will like him. But he better not try to get into my pants, 'cause all he'd find in there is a big old maxi pad!"