Short Hair, Do Care

Been almost three weeks since I got my pixie cut. As my roommate said, "I feel like all liberal artistic women into gender equality have the short haircut at some point, so it was only a matter of time." If so, at least I am going through this rite of passage now when I am young and wandery and can look sort of like I got my head stuck in a sheep-shearer and its w/e.

Running is awesome. My head feels so light, there's no rat tail absorbing sweat and hitting my back. The shower after is divine. I feel like one complete person. No weeping willow vines. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I'm like, "Hey, this is okay. I kinda look like Anne Hathaway in Les Mis" and then I remember she was a street urchin who died of venereal disease. I dunno, guys.

I put on makeup a lot more. I have been wearing earrings every day. I grasp these bits of womanhood tightly. "You like a boy from behind," someone tells me, and I do feel flushed. Even though looking like a boy should be as much of a false insult as "playing like a girl." I get pizza with Shells, who also has a pixie, and I'm pretty sure our waitress thinks it's a date. Which also isn't inherently supposed to be an insult (but it's a little jarring). When I went on a real date this week, I felt a little deflated not being able to do anything with my hair. It is what it is now. Freeing, limiting.

Yesterday morning I went to the tiny hip grocery store for a cucumber, strawberries, and hummus. It was 8:30. I was in pajamas. (It's Spring Break.) As the dude checked me out he said

DUDE: Nice hair.
ME: Thanks.
DUDE: How do you like it?
ME: I don't love it. It's fine. This is the shortest it's been.
DUDE: I admire your guts.
ME: It's hard to have short hair. Which is a stupid thing because it's just a hair cut.
DUDE: A woman's hair represents so much in our society.

I mean, tell me something I don't know, dude. Mainly, I try not to think about it too much. Because it is just hair and it will grow back and it's all very vain in the first place. But thoughts are thoughts. Better to ruminate a little than suppress a lot.

Trefoil and chocolate chai ice cream in Virginia.

Summer Before High School

Jimmy Eat World was always in my Discman. I wrote the lyrics on my arms. I wore my baby blue tee with wings on the back. The Princess Diaries trailers intrigued me. I loved the song that played. It was by Myra. It felt happy and hopeful and I liked this new Anne Hathaway chick. Fran promised not to see it until I was back from camp. I found the novel and read it hungrily in my cabin. My bunk was right next to Wizzy's. She would throw her towel into the rafters and swing on it to practice her pointe. I decorated a root beer bottle with magazine cut-outs. It was supposed to represent parts of me, and I would look at it when I was trying to fall asleep. The bold, "LET'S GO CRAZY" and the Britney Spears ad. My favorite shorts were light pink. I wore them the night I babysat for five kids. That night _____ had called my cell phone four times and hung up before finally staying on the line and asking if I wanted to see a movie. "Have you been calling and hanging up?" I asked. He responded too quickly No. But that fall in Honors Biology, by the microscopes, he told me the truth. He was already going out with ____ _______ by that time. I didn't know what to expect. I felt excited. The girls all swam at Peppermint's pool by day and watched American Pie 2 in her basement by night. We invited the boys, who would ride over on their bikes for Truth or Dare. Everyone liked everyone, but I was over the kids we knew. I was the worst student in the summer improv intensive. I never volunteered. I was too quiet to be heard. That one kid sat on my lap on the bus ride home from Second City. He said he'd get up when I had a conversation with him. I didn't. He did. No one spent any money. We were fridge-funded. I could never eat anyway because my braces hurt. I asked for red, white, and blue. There were so many graduation parties, but what did we even do at them? We were fourteen.

I don't need wings to help me fly.
Miracles happen once in a while when you believe.

Thoughts on Les Mis (Part II)

-There are many extreme close-ups for prolonged times. I don't know what this was trying to accomplish. It is safe to say I never felt extra-sensitive or connected by Anne Hathaway being huge and belting directly at me. On the contrary, I kept being pulled from the experience thinking, "Why does this keep happening?" Perhaps the filmmakers were thinking in exchange for the tangible aspect of a stage show, they would highlight the micro-possibilities of movies. But, for me, at least, the two were not comparable. I will say it was cool to see actors' emotional transformations so distinctly--read: so many tears. But, then again, while the shots made me appreciate the acting, I was so aware of them, I couldn't be fully appreciative of the story.
-Eddie Redmayne. Yowza.
-Thenardiers--perf, great fun, Sasha Baron forevah.
-It's nice they got the original Valjean into the film as the priest, but it bothered me they beefed up the part so much. Well, I'm actually not sure about this. The film hugely emphasized the religious undertones of the story, which, I suppose, are important. I actually had never truly understood how much the story is about God's grace until watching the film--mainly because of all the angled crucifix shots and ol' priesty wandering around extra scenes. I must admit, it was refreshing to see a movie that spoke to the importance of God. I don't generally believe religious views should be pushed on people, but I find it strange that religion is a huge force in society, and it is so infrequently involved in storytelling unless it is the point of the story.
-Russel Crowe. Woof. Guy can't sing for beans, or should I say...A LOAF OF BREAD.
-One of my favorite parts of the musical is the three-part harmony between Eponine, Fantine, and Valjean in the finale. Bummed they cut Eponine, but then in hindsight...why would she be welcoming Valjean to heaven? They didn't know each other. Oversight, lyricist.
-Loved Enjrolas dying in classic stage pose. A lil something for the old school fans.
-"One Day More": did not dig it! This is when I really missed the theatre. Seeing each person on their own journey feet from each other onstage is so much more exhilarating than cuts.
-New Number? Why? Why why why? So dumb. Did not y'all get the memo this musical is long and right on the cusp of boring? I mean, if it had been a song to highlight some character who wasn't originally--NO, another solo for Hugh. Pass.
-Many times words would be switched around in a lyric for no apparent reason. IE Jackman singing "I am the mayor of this town. I run a business of repute" instead of the other way around. This obviously tripped my mental record player and I wondered if these were line flubs or re-written for some minute reason.
-Loved loved loved the finale of "Do You Hear the People Sing?" Beautiful, epic, comforting, chilling.
-Also loved how film began on a ship chain gang in dirt and darkness and ended on that gorgeous golden ship. Pretty inspirational. Victor Hugo started the original "It Gets Better" movement.
-Speaking of the novelist, the main thing I kept realizing during the film is that the story in itself is...not that good. I'm sure the book is much more satisfying in terms of development, but most of the story is rather shallow. The young love triangle is vapid. We get introduced to characters just in time to watch them die. We don't really get a sense of what the barricade is seeking to accomplish. (Although I did appreciate Gavroche's new verses in "Look Down" that at least set up the monarchy in France). In the words of Henne as we discussed it yesterday, "Like, get an editor, Hugo."

B

Look down, Javert, he's standing in his grave.