Here Comes the Bride...and Corperate America

Stefan and I have been dating now for a little over two years now, and it is basically understood that we will someday get married. We plan to first live together, in our own apartment, and then get engaged if we still feel like we can stand each other (J/k). Anyway, since I have come to this realisation that Stefan is "the One", I have thought much about our far-off wedding day. (I'm a Girl. So shoot me.)

Weddings are quite facinating for me. I am finally getting to that age where my friends are getting engaged and I am getting invited to their weddings. Friends of mine from work are getting hitched in March of next year, and I am really looking forward to attending. Mostly because I care very much for the couple, and I wish them the best. However, this is not to say I am not at least a tiny bit excited to steal ideas from their ceremony and reception. You see, I am a crafty lady. It is my nature. So a wedding seems to me like the biggest craft project ever! Center pieces, thematic colors, flower arrangements, invitations, favors, etc., I am so there! My inner crafting goddess is elated at the mere thought. Here's the catch: I am dumb-founded at the idea of inviting a bunch of people I don't know watch Stefan and I on the most intimate day of our lives. (It really weirds me out to think of all the people at our reception wish us off to our honeymoon, knowing full well what'll go down. EVERYONE THINKS IT, and if you don't you're lying.) Another concern is the fact that Stefan's family might feel excluded because they don't speak English fluently. (His mother I'm not worried about because she can make friends with anybody) They are wonderful people, and I want them to feel as important as they are. All of these concerns though are not worth worrying about presently anyway, so I will refrain from talking about them any longer.

Anyhoo, because of my facination of weddings, I have discovered that corperate America has a lot to say about what you "have to do" for your wedding. I promise, no matter how stressed, I will not be the crazy bridezilla that you see on those wedding shows. It's not my style. Plus, I doubt that I will feel like dishing out $700 for little monogramed tea napkins that'll be thrown in a trash can anyway. And don't even think for a second that I need a big seven teired, fondant and royal icing grand princess-y cake. Oh, no. We're having cute cupcakes and that's it. No cake/face smashing either. It's tacky. I went on "The Knot" website (just for fun, I swear!) and found a fun little gizmo called a "budgeter". Out of curiosity, I wanted to see how much a $3,500 would cover for about 80 guests. I only checked the boxes next to items that I felt like I would absolutely positively would HAVE TO purchace (that I couldn't make or provide myself). Looking at it, nothing made any sense. It budgeted about $200 for a photographer (yeah, right), $35 to rent a ceremoney site (I won't hold my breath) and about 70 cents per favor. It makes me think that corperate America is causing people to become more engaged in the wedding details than the people who their engaged to. Most likely, whoever made this little gizmo thought that it best to calculate the things that brides will really want to a low percentage of the total budget, so that they'll recalculate and splurge elseware too. I love Stefan, and I know that he loves me too. I don't need to wear a wedding dress worth more than my car to prove it either. He met me in an outfit that probably cost me 20 bucks, so I don't see why we need to spend a year's rent on a dress I'll wear for no more than 8 hours. Just rediculous. It seems to me that the whole thing could cause a girl to begin dreaming of Vegas. Hopefully, I wouldn't be driven to that level of disgust, but for now I am a bit perterbed at the whole situation.

Does anyone else feel this way? I hope I'm not the only one.

The Power of Hair

I am not one to put TOO much emphasis on my hair. I like it enough; it keeps my head warm, and makes me look like a female. But I don't go to the salon and spend my entire paycheck on my hair. Normally, if my roots are screamingly obvious, I'll buy a box of DIY haircolor. I have no particular brand or shade or even color that I am loyal to. (Life is far too short to have only one hair color.) Then, I stand in my bathroom in my underwear (or naked if my mom is not having a hot flash, and turned the house into a freezer) and dye my hair myself. I am very careful to put cotton around my ears, and get as much of the drips as possible. If anything does get on my skin, I try very hard to rub it off with astringent. That is what I normally do.

Well, after months of wearing my boss down, he finally sort-of said yes to my having pink hair. Now, I agreed to put it only on the underside of my hair, so no one could see the pink if I had my hair in a ponytail. (unless of course they were behind me). This was perfectly acceptable, and I agreed to get it colored over if the pink was causing issues with the guests.

Well, I knew that the only way to get pink was to bleach my hair. I thought that it would be better to go to a professional, so I didn't totally fry it. This is where it all goes downhill.

Close to our house is a place called the "HAIR COLOR CENTER". The man who owns the place, Angelo, is the former technical advisor for Clariol. He's not the reason that I went there, but he's the one who, as they said "took care" of me. I wasn't really impressed by the other women sitting there, but they were all middle-aged women who were bleaching their hair beyond reason. This young girl came out and had me sit down, and Angelo was "consulting" someone else. I waited about 15 minutes, and the girl had me sit down into the consulting chair. Angelo sits down and asks me what I want. I told him that I wanted pink on the underside and ruby red everywhere else, and I needed a trim. Well, he REFUSED to do pink. He insisted that it he couldn't do it, and that he'd have to make the color. And, that the color would end up an bright orange. Whatever. He plopped this big thing of hair color swatches in my lap and said "look at these for a minute". I could tell he really wasn't interested in doing my hair properly. There was one bright ruby color that I liked for the rest of my hair. So I thought, "hey, I'll just get red, and get out of here". Not what happened.

I sat in the chair for a while, while Angelo ran around and helped the other hairstylists. Then he came back, grabbed a bunch of hair in the back, and made a face in the mirror. Then he disappered into the back, only to return a few minutes later with a bottle of what appeared to be hair dye. He rubbed that stuff all over my roots, and let it sit for about 10 minutes. It burned, but not enough for me to think that it mattered. Then, he comes out and puts a darker color on the rest of my hair. This is when I really got concerned. He got a huge blob of hair dye on my forehead, near the hair line. And left it there. He left my hair down, with the dye in it, which stained my ears and neck. I couldn't wear my glasses, so I was pretty blind, which only made me more nervous because I couldn't see how the other women in the salon turned out. He left the dye in my hair for about 15 minutes, before he came out and placed a timer for 30 minutes on the table. And I sat there. And I waited. And I waited. And I waited. Throughout this time, the young girl is periodically staring at my head with a worried look on her face.

Saved by the bell, the buzzer went off and Angleo has me go back so the girl can shampoo my hair. (Note that by now, the stuff that Angelo put on my roots has been on my hair for about a hour.) She did a nice job, and was pretty sweet. She shampoos my hair twice, and then Angelo comes back and tells her to do it once more. (I'm sortof freaking at this point, but I didn't show it) When she finished, Angelo tells her not to rinse out all of the conditionar, and she says under her breath, "I know". This made me really, really nervous. WIth my hair still pretty wet, I sat down in the chair. I could tell immediately that something was wrong, and I couldn't see hardly at all! Angelo proceeded to blow dry my hair, and as it dries I notice the roots getting lighter and lighter. When he was all done, I put my glasses on, and I felt my heart sink. My roots were bright ORANGE, while the rest was a dark red. To make it worse, there was a dark, almost black, stripe between the roots and the rest of my hair. Angelo is chirping in the background about how glad he was that he "talked me out" of getting pink, and that I should come back in 5 weeks for a touch-up and some blond streaks. What the Hell?! I told him several times that I hated streaks, and wanted only solid colors. This made me so mad. But I didn't say anything. I kept my mouth shut, and now I'm mad that I did. I paid $60, including tip (I think I was in shock) for something that I could have done at home for $8, and not had orange roots. I didn't even get a trim, which I reminded him about twice! This is not at all what I wanted, and I wish I had just gotten up and walked out during the consultation. But I learned a lesson I suppose. Never, ever let anyone touch my hair.

A women who is a customer at the Pharmacy is a hairdresser, and she said it is going to turn all over orange if I'm not super careful. She said it might not if I stay out of the sun, but that will prove impossible, because Stefan and I are going to Busch Gardens this weekend. What is a girl to do? What would you do in my position?

Would you ask for a refund now, or would you chaulk it up to experience? I think I should get a refund, but wait to see if I turn into carrot-top after Saturday. What do you think?

Anticlimactic

So I finished my classes. It was all so anticlimactic. I didn't sigh a big sigh of relief, or feel any sort of loss or anything. Sure I'm happy to be done with the semester, but I just didn't get that surge of glee as I usually do. I think pehaps because I have no feelings about this semester other than remorse. I wish I had taken other courses. I wish I had signed up for Anthroplogy, a science, and intermediate algebra. I am sorry that I didn't push myself this semester, and I think that now that it's done, I feel like I have nothing to show for it.

I think I will feel much more rejuvinated once I get my sleep schedule back into gear. Huh. I feel like taking my bike around the neighborhood. Or running. (I DON'T RUN, which makes this feeling very odd for me.) Tomarrow I will most likely get my hair trimmed, and if I am feeling good, I think I will ask them to dye the underside of my hair pink. I could use some pink in my life...yes that sounds lovely.

So the next step is to go deeper. I am taking the buisness class next semester, and getting another job. A creative one. I just need a place to spread my wings a bit. I also want to explore myself more. I haven't gotten to my core in a really long time. I am very tempted to go on a trip by myself. Somewhere I can breathe, and clear my mind. Stefan got me a camera for my birthday, and I amaching to take pictures of beautiful rolling fields and tree-blanketed mountains. Ah, to have the money to escape. Wouldn't that be nice? Well, one good thing about my birthday is that I am 1 year closer to being able to rent a car and escape this stupid state.

My mind is flying. I can't seem to focus my thoughts.

Maybe I should go ride my bike. That might be lovely. If I could just feel sortof small and conneted to the environment, I think I could concentrate. Perhaps on Wednesday Stefan and I could go lay out on a blanket by the grass. Last time we did that (on 4th of July) we had such a nice time. I am so in love with him.

Have you ever seen a couple slow dancing without music? Just holding each other close and stepping lightly as their bodies sway? Well, that's us. If there is anything that I have done right, it's been falling in love him. I know that I will be with him forever. How do I know this? Because there are no words in the English language that could describe our love for one another. It's good to know that when you feel like running, you always have someone who'll run with you.

Anyway that's just what was on my mind.