Thursday, March 31, 2011

The Haircut


I went home last weekend leaving my apartment in disarray. It was really bothering me, so when work said I could make today a vacation day I took them up on it and cleaned. The curtains and windows open the music playing and the realization that I may not get everything I dreamed of. I may not get to an Oscar ceremony, let alone win one; it may be a while before I even get on a movie set for a five minute movie again, although I did put my feelers out to get more information about a shoot coming up.

I don’t think I’ll be one of those people who are married and have children and a dog and shop for school supplies in September. I’ve always known it today I felt it and was ok with it. Felt strong and a bit frightened by the choices I’ve made.

I went to get my hair cut in the afternoon. I would rather go to the dentist than get my hair cut. I suppose I could talk to the hair dresser about movies (although I’m guessing she hasn’t seen splice or monsters) or the great vegan carrot Quinoa recipe I’m buying a lemon for when this gets done. But I don’t, instead I sit there quietly looking like I’m about to get certain procedure from Syriana done to me and listen to them talk about how sick they were in great detail.

The best part was watching H (I used to work with her at the call centre) do a ladies hair while I waited. She looked at her client the same way I’d seen her look at her three little girls. She seemed to be at peace, like me chopping avocado for my favorite salad. And I thought I don’t have children, but this is not her child, I need to bring that love and contentment with me. I need to find a way to carry that through the things I do.

My apartment was clean by lunch. I curled up with a sandwich and some left over cauliflower and ate in my PJ’s. I too felt at peace.


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