Do You Believe in Evolution?

As of Saturday, I had my final haircut in the saga that was growing out my pixie haircut.  We finally caught up with my cut-out ear holes (technical term) and bangs, and I am back to some semblance of a bob. It was been a long year, filled with much aggravation. Every day I woke up not knowing what the mirror would reflect... as those of you who have grown out a super-short hairstyle know, it's a different beast every day. So many layers to reconcile!

So here's the evolution, in some horribly cropped photos.

This was taken immediately after my last 'pixie' trim at an event in New York City, and I was going for tres chic:

Oh, how naive you were...

Then the growth started. I have featured this photo before-- as I love how my growing mullet sticks out the back.

Is this how you smile with your eyes, Tyra?

From here, it just went down hill. I'm surprised my husband didn't go into mourning, as I sure as hell wanted to put black sheets over all the mirrors in the house.  When growing out a pixie, one must be ever-aware that front will always be playing catch-up. This is a perfect illustration of what I refer to as, "mom hair." (Also, I decided to start growing my color out too, just for the added fun of having my husband suggest I 'wear a hat' when we go out.)

This is what I call my monotone look, where my hair matches my skin.

Then I went to school in Vermont for the summer where the au-naturale look was totally the norm. So I went without trimming my mullet for an entire summer. And ate organic, read Virginia Woolf, and said things like, "Well, if we look through the lens of a 19th century female..."  I came back with a superiority complex, and a horrible shag/mullet:

Fair-trade certified.

So finally, on Saturday, I was able to get enough length to cut off the back of my hair. And then, because the hippie-Vermont-earth-mother part of me has finally gone into hibernation for the winter, I got some blond highlights. As of today, I am a new woman:

Moral of the story? If you don't have a sabbatical to Vermont coming up, or a well-planned coma, growing out a pixie is not for the faint of heart.

The Problem With My Generation...

So I flicked on the TV today, and they were showing the video of Casey Anthony talking into her web cam, rather incoherently, about herself. You can see it here.

There was a psychologist on, and he was pointing out her narcissism because at no time does she mention her child, or her parents.  Then, the psychologist said that it was a common problem for people from her generation  to suffer from extreme narcissism, especially with their online presence. (She is 25—I’m 28, so I consider myself of the same generation he is referencing.)

And I felt like I should ask: Does this broad over-generalization and criticism of my generation apply to me? Most social interaction, at least for people my age, is online through Facebook, and lesser so in Twitter, Pinterest, Flickr, and blogs.  All these spaces have one thing in common—that the message can be carefully crafted and composed; in many cases, the result is self-promotion. Is our online personas a form of thinly veiled narcissism? When I’m truly honest with myself, I start to see my own narcissistic tendencies—and it scares me.

Take this blog for example! While I write here more as an exercise, and a documentation of my own life that I may one day value, it is public. I enjoy getting comments. I edit myself to be more palatable, chose the best bits of my life to highlight, and downplay (or omit) the less happy ones. I would argue that the ‘me’ you read about here is authentic, if but only a sliver of my true identity.

So, is my generation, accused of chronic narcissism, creating a society that is becoming less altruistic? Sure, we are supposed to love ourselves, but I would argue that this self-promotion is not done out of love of one’s self, but out of deep dependence on the approval of others. But if we are all narcissistic, then can we even expect others to be paying attention?

AND… I think I just fell down the rabbit hole.

As you can see, but the last few posts, I’ve been thinking a lot about how our online presence is shaping our society. And I’ll admit it, I don’t think I could ever bring myself to leave Facebook. I feel like I would completely fall out of so many people’s lives—but then again—that may not be a bad thing. Although, I’m going to make a true effort to be less self-promoting. Post less day-to-day drivel and doesn’t actually matter. Maybe be more entertaining. Or quiet. We’ll see how it shakes out.

Facebook: Ruining Birthday Etiquette Everywhere

So, my birthday has always been a bit anti-climactic. January 3rd is usually the first day back to school, work, real life, and one usually awakes with the stark realization that the holidays have left them bloated on almond bark and ham, a bit hung-over, and completely broke. No one is usually looking for their next party, complete with a generous portion of birthday cake.

But this isn’t going to be one long complaint about the lackluster celebration involved with my less-than-ideal birthday timing. (Nor will it be one long lecture on saying to someone, ‘it’s for Christmas and your birthday too.’ Although for the record, that is the worst justification ever invented, oh thoughtful relative.)

No, this post is intended to be one long complaint about Facebook Birthday Etiquette.

For example: I received 79 “Happy Birthdays” on Facebook. Impressive, right? I should feel alive and glowing with the overwhelming love of my friends, near and far.

However, we should compare this to the three text messages I received, two e-mails, and four phone calls. (This all includes family, but excludes the in-person Happy Birthdays I received from colleagues and husband.) Oh, and zero birthday cards in the mailbox.

Now those 79 Facebook “Happy Birthdays” are starting to look a little different. I must pose the question to people everywhere, who celebrate the birthdays of their friends and family: Since when is it ok to take 10 seconds (after Facebook TELLS you it’s a person’s birthday) to click a link, then write, “Have a great day!” and be done with it? No phone call, card, email, text, message in a bottle, smoke signal, surprise visit… Or am I totally off-base in my thinking?

Again, this isn’t a complaint. I just want to use this as a compelling illustration of how Facebook is ruining the way we communicate.

I mentioned to a girlfriend that I was tempted to disable my Facebook wall this year, so folks who fall into the category of “Real-Friend-And-Facebook-Friend” would be forced into actual thoughtful interaction with me, the birthday celebrant. I’m perfectly fine with all the people I sat next to in Post-Colonial Lit my sophomore year of college, the people on my co-ed softball team, and various other ‘acquaintances’ to give me the quickie “HBD” on my Facebook wall for all to see. But You? Dear friend who I have shared my inner most fears and secrets with? And You, person I had my pastry chef husband make a special petit four on your last birthday which I hand-delivered to your office?

Et tu, Grandma?

Ok, so maybe this did turn a little bit personal. Don’t worry, folks mentioned above. I still love you. This is clearly my ye-olde-fashioned problem, not yours. Maybe I’m just sad that my day passed with little fanfare from some of the people I love the most.

It’s ok, I understand. You’re bloated on ham and candy, and still a bit hung-over.

28

Today I'm 28. I always figured 28 would be a monumental number for me: the guy I had a crush on in high school was 28 (one of those love-from-afar things, he didn't know I existed) and I thought he was SO together. With his motorcycle and truck, great hair, house, and awesome part-time job bartending.

Instead of a motorcycle, I have a surfboard-- which is probably just as dangerous considering the shark + clumsy factor.

And instead of a truck, I have a 16 year old Lexus sedan that just rolled into 170,000 miles last weekend. (BUT, she is paid off. Which makes her my glorious debt-free chariot, despite the fact that I look like a Granny behind her golden wheels.)

My hair isn't so great, as I am still suffering the aftermath of a pixie haircut (seriously ladies, think twice before going down that road. It's taken me 13 months, 8 haircuts, and some interesting headband choices to feel comfortable in a public place. Until just a few months ago, I looked like I had been attacked by a dull food processor).

House, well-- I pay half the mortgage on our house, which is probably the most adult-y thing I do. And Terrifying. Because owning a house roots you to so many things: location, neighbors, public transportation, the crippling fear you will lose your job and lose your house and live in your gold Lexus in the Wal-Mart parking lot.

Which brings us to job: At least I'm not bartending! I quickly realized after high school that bartending isn't nearly as glamorous as I thought it was. With four summers of slinging drinks under my belt, I can honestly disapprove when my future children pose this as part of their life plan. I now have a job that pays the bills, and doesn't leave me soaked in Red Bull with sore feet. But it doesn't really fund my dreams. You know, because of my crippling fear of living in a Wal-Mart parking lot. (This isn't a complaint, I'm lucky with a great employer. But in the spirit of self-reflection, I'm being honest...)

So cheers to 28! I have accomplished some, but am looking for possibility. I might just take a chance this year to fund a dream or two. I think 28 will prove to be transformative-- because instead of waiting around for good things to happen, I am going to just start knocking on doors, making lists, and shaking things up a little.

Because you should never, ever shake things up by getting a super-short haircut.

Long Distance Relationshipping

Skype picture-grab

Okay, yes, being gone from Florida for six weeks during the summer does have its advantages, namely, not melting into a blob of goo in the oppressive heat. Or fighting for a spot on the beach among five hundred thousand out-of-state tourists that insist on dragging all their worldly belongings with them to their beach towel (I once saw a lady knitting on the beach while listening to a boom box the size of a refrigerator. Knitting! Boom Box! IS THIS THE WINTER OF 1988?). Or burning your ass on your leather car seats every time you need to drive somewhere because YES, I may have leather car seats but still cannot afford to have an actual garage, thankyouverymuch.

But it does have its draw-backs. Like trying to keep relationships happy and healthy. See the exhibit above: the two men in my life. Can't you see how forlorn and lost they are? Not pictured: box of kleenex, cd compilation of Celine Dion love songs, and half eaten box of chocolates. 

Actually, it's always a challenge keeping a relationship healthy when you are apart for so long. Skype is great, it makes it easier to actually see their face and have visual proof-of-life for the pets. But, it's difficult and I know Schuyler gets frustrated with my hi-jinks. Most days I have to do so much homework that I can usually only give up about 30 minutes for a chat.

It will be nice to get back home. Three weeks from today I'll be back. Not that anyone's counting...

Hello from Mt. Loneliness

Greetings from a region of the country that still believes in land-line telephones, shuns tv, barely maintains their dirt roads, and where the local bar closes at 9pm. Which means we have to start drinking at 3pm. Compromise!

I can't believe I've been in Vermont for over three weeks. It has been an interesting stay so far. I feel like I have so much to encompass in this message; but, I will stick to three main points:

1. Beer
2. Brrrrrr
3. Bat Shit Crazy

Alliteration! #WinningatbeinganEnglishmajor

First, we must acknowledge the players (roommates) in this farce.  There are very few.

Our first cast member is Sarah. Sarah is a PhD candidate from Michigan, but currently lives in New Orleans. She works in international development. She has a horrible infection from Haiti that we refer to as, "her worms." She is usually only conscious long enough to go to class and drink with me. Which makes Sarah possibly one of the most awesome people I have ever met.

Our second cast member is Muir. Muir is a cool cat from Massachusetts, and is also getting a masters in library science. (Which officially makes me the most un-learned person in this cabin. REPRESENT.) Muir is a single dude, and all the ladies be message'n him on BreadNet for dates. Ladies, ladies-- one at a time, please!

Our final cast member: THE SPIDERS. This cabin, it's filled with all sorts of creepy-crawlies. Sarah smashes them with coffee cups, Muir altruistically frees them outside. Me? I leave a bag of open potato chips in the hallway outside my bedroom, to distract them from my supple sleeping flesh.

And back to my three points:

1. Beer

The spoils of a rainy weekend. Beer has become my primary food group. I have been known to skip lunch, in order to drink my calories that evening in Woodchuck, Magic Hat, Harpoon, and Long Trail. We've instituted cocktail hour at the cabin, and it is the highlight of my day.

2. Brrrr

It is COLD IN VERMONT. It is July 13 and I am wearing sweat pants, a sweat shirt, and am huddled under the covers of my bed. One day it got up to 83. Everyone freaked out, and kept saying, "Margo, this must be what Florida is like, right?!" Uh. No. Maybe in March. Come on, you winter folks. If you can survive 30 below zero, and seasonal-affective disorder, you can handle wearing shorts for one stinking day a summer.

3. Bat Shit Crazy

I'm going bat shit crazy because I've completely over-extended myself this summer. I'm taking two very difficult classes (Fiction Writing, where we turn in 34 pages of original fiction in six weeks, and Modernist Comedy that is very heavy on literary criticism: and both are AMAZING), and am working remotely for my job back in Florida. Which basically means I get up at 7am, and work or go to school until 1am. It's definitely taking its toll, and I'm barely coping. See point #1.

Anyway, I hope to post more often. I know this was a little on the negative end, but it really is beautiful up here in the Green Mountains. See below, and imagine me freezing my tookus off behind the camera while everyone slathers on sunscreen and fans themselves.

Echo!

Anyone out there? Ok, so I haven't posted in a while. I've just been too darn busy!

On June 20 I'll be at back at school, and plan to write while I'm there. So check back in a few weeks for stories, photos, and anecdotes from my Vermont Summer Adventure!

xx