A Daily Cuppa

Just like many other people, it’s been a while since I had a haircut. My hair has gotten quite long, and my bangs have grown out.

I have mixed feelings about it – not because I haven’t gotten a haircut, but because long hair is a bit of a conundrum for me.

I like the idea of having long hair. I like the potential of updos and curls and flirty, feathery tresses. I also know that I look better with long hair than I do with short hair. I was a firsthand participant in the Dorothy Hamill Haircut Craze and have the mortifying pictures hidden away in family photo albums to prove it.

But, the reality of long hair is not the same as the idea. Glorious, Julia Roberts-type hair typically requires effort beyond my commitment level. I’ve also noticed that accumulated birthdays bring a bit of thinning hair, along with the greys – the greys (grrrr, let’s not talk about that).

No natural bounce exists for me; if I’m going to attempt luxurious curls, enjoy flowing waves and cascading glory, I’ve got to put in a lot of work, use lots of styling aids, and accept that the best I’ll get is a moderate amount of outcome. That’s not something I’m eager to do.

So, what’s happening currently is a hybrid of straight and long on some days, clipped up in a messy flip on other days. Sometimes, I attempt to blow-dry a style; with increasing frequency, the hair dryer stays in the cabinet, and it’s an air-dry day (assuming I chose to wash my hair that morning). If I know that I won’t be venturing out of the house, I might not even (shhhhhhh)…brush it at all.

I realize that, in the big picture, my hair woes are frivolous and self-centered. I have much to be grateful for; dealing with my hair is truly not that big of a deal.

I also know that the hair grass is typically greener on the other side. Friends with naturally curly hair have told me how much they’d like to have stick-straight locks; friends with fine, thin hair have told me that they wouldn’t mind dealing with the challenges of thick, heavy hair instead.

These are the things I remind myself each time I get frustrated by what I see in the mirror.

But I still get frustrated. I’m human, and it’s hot outside. Blow dryers, brushes, combs, and hair clips annoy me right now. My hair-styling patience is stretched like a rubber band, the kind that gets tangled and pulls the roots from your scalp.

However, I still believe in my hair’s potential. I’m still convinced that, for me, long is better than short. All it will take is the perfect combination of clips and potions, styling and brushing, to achieve Hair Nirvana.

So, if you happen to see me in person, and you think to yourself, oh honey, it’s a Bad Hair Day, just know that it’s ok to say it out loud, to my face. And then, perhaps, we can laugh at the ridiculousness together.

Instead of counting sheep when I have trouble getting to sleep at night, I play the game Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.

Mentally traveling through the various Kevin Connections is a great way to disconnect from anything else on my mind. As I think about the movies and the players, I visualize strings and hallways and stairways, up and down, across, over and through. It’s a peaceful and fun way to distract myself. Most often, I drift off in the middle of the game. At times, the game leads to the next morning’s earworm, so that’s an occasional bonus.

A Few Good Men is a good starting point. That one’s got everybody from Jack Nicholson to Cuba Gooding, Jr. in it. More recently, Crazy, Stupid, Love has Julianne Moore and Steve Carrell, plus Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone. And, there are oodles of other films to choose from, each with a cast of characters portrayed by actors with potential connections back to the Kevin Core. The possibilities are endless.

It’s likely that I enjoy the game, find comfort in it, because I love finding connections in general. This person knows that person, this event led to that event, etc. I’m kind of wired to think that way. It’s automatic. So, a game that involves that process, has a goal associated with it, is exactly the kind of game I enjoy.

Today’s cuppa celebrates the game and the fact that it’s Kevin Bacon’s birthday. Here’s hoping he has a happy day, and here’s to connections and the fun of finding them in random and unusual ways.

It’s an interesting thing, the experience of being New.

New to a process. New to a place. New to a group or a perspective. Whatever the circumstances, the experience of starting, coming into, beginning.

There’s excitement. There’s learning, evaluating, understanding. It can be fun. It can create feelings of accomplishment and satisfaction.

There’s also vulnerability. And hesitation. And doubt. And sometimes, fear. Will it work? Is it right? Can I do it?

And there can be sadness. If the move toward New is intentional, the future state a positive one, there may still be moments of nostalgia and regret; what once was will be no more. If the move toward New includes unplanned, unforeseen circumstances, the nostalgia and regret may also be accompanied by moments of grief and mourning.

All the emotions, all the feelings. Together, combined, here and there, everywhere, all part of the experience.

I spent a few minutes today considering my cuppa in terms of New. What matters most? The fact that I’ve had it for years, or the knowledge that it contains a fresh beverage? Is it half-empty because I’ve been drinking from it? Or is it half-full because it still contains some coffee?

The perspective is up to me. The answers are mine to decide.

Reading (and sometimes, writing) is not typically considered an exciting hobby. Certainly, when compared to skydiving, or scuba diving, or running marathons, or any variety of other activities, it might seem tame and passive.

There’s rarely a risk associated with opening a book. There’s no parachute to worry about as you jump from the plane. No concern that your carefully-crafted soufflé will collapse. No fear that the other team will kick the ball and win in the final minutes of the game.

So, why is reading (and sometimes, writing) such a popular hobby?

I can’t speak for all Readers and Writers. But I can lift a cuppa to celebrate the joy that comes to me when I read (and sometimes, write). And, I can share this quote from Anne Lamott, which captures my feelings on the matter.

“Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It’s like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can’t stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship.”

I woke up this morning with an earworm of the song Let It Go from the movie Frozen.

That song gets a lot of grief, probably because an entire generation of youngsters obsessively wanted (wants) it played and sang (sings) it all day, all night, in the car, at breakfast, before bed, anytime, anywhere. When I was a youngster, it was Tomorrow from the musical Annie. It’s a Thing, this childhood attachment to a song. Kids do it, parents tolerate it.

Anyway. Let It Go. I love that song. My children weren’t of the age to be interested in the movie when it became popular, so I avoided the nonstop version. I’ve been able to enjoy it on my own terms.

Perhaps because I see a bit of myself in the story, I sometimes get emotional when listening to it. For sure, it’s a winner choice when I’m driving down the highway, alone, and I want a boost of energy or just feel like belting out a tune. Crank up the volume, let Elsa lead the way, and sing at the top of my lungs. It’s like a shot of espresso at 65 mph.

Sometimes, my morning earworms are annoying. Today’s earworm is appreciated. Here’s to all of us who can use a little blast of winter courage on this hot summer day.