"When you are young, you think it will be solved by love. But it never is."

"Everything snapped into focus. It's one of those unforgettable moments that happen as a child, when you discover that all along the world has been betraying you."
-Nicole Krauss, The History of Love


This isn't the best or even my favorite quote from that book, which I reread this week and which is one of my favorites, but it's how I feel these days. As if the world has betrayed me. "Be kind to people" it said. So I was kind. "Give" it said. So I gave. "Trust" it said. So I trusted. And now, "We've so easily fooled you. How could you have listened to us?" And with a broken heart, I'm forced to see the error of my ways. To wonder, also, how I ever could have listened to such an unreliable source.

I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what I want or need. And that's scary. I don't know how to recover from the blows I've received. I don't know how to deal the blows that are necessary to fight back. As always, I want to run away, but that has never worked, why should I think it would work now? So what is my solution? I don't know. Or maybe I don't want to know. Probably the latter.

I'm balancing too many stones. Half have fallen already. I suspect the rest are whispering conspiratorially, waiting for the moment when I least expect them to bolt. But deep down I also suspect it's my hands that will revolt in the end.

When Music Happened to Me

I didn't exactly grow up on "good" music. More like top 40 and disco. Coming into my own - musically - wasn't easy. I had nothing to go off of. No wiser older siblings or free spirited parents to guide me. At 3 my favorite artist was MJ. The Way You Make Me Feel was my first favorite song; the first video I recorded and watched over and over and over. So what happened? How did I veer so far left? How did I swim up river and escape into increasingly distant tributaries?

Before I begin, it's important to point out that from 3 years old on up, I FELT music. It was a physical experience. When a song connected, it was akin to a full body high. I don't know how else to explain it. From my earliest memories, it's been an obsession. When all I had at my disposal was the radio, I'd wait on pins and needles for that one song to play that made everything else disappear for 3 minutes and 30 seconds. That one melody that made each day worth living just to experience one more time. I'd become euphoric. I needed everything and everyone to stop so I could enjoy those few moments of pure elation. It was physical, spiritual, emotional. Anything but rational.

Now, the album I see as being the keystone in my revelation and movement from popular to anything-but is Bringing Down the Horse. It's the first CD I remember buying on my own with whatever birthday or Christmas money I had. I was only 10 or 11 at the time, and no one else I knew liked them. I know for certain no one convinced me to do it. It had nothing to do with needing acceptance from other people. It was one of the first purely independent choices I remember making. I mean, they were on the radio, but everyone else I knew was more interested in whatever Kube 93 (Seattle's token rap/hip hop station) was playing.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I was deeply intrigued by rap and hip hop both, but having parents who were religiously conservative, I wasn't exactly allowed to listen to any of it, let alone buy it, thus limiting any possible venturings into the genre. So the Wallflowers were my first dip into untested waters. And I must say, it went quite well.

From there I moved on to The Goo Goo Dolls, then Cake. Cake was my first concert. Well, the first one I count anyway. The first one I had tickets to. I was 14. Awkward. Unsure about life. And not really finding any satisfaction in the top 40. I still spent a lot of time listening to the radio. Every evening from 3:45 to 10:30 was spent in my room with the radio blaring. But it just became less and less "spiritual," if you will. Few things on the radio felt like what I was finding elsewhere.

So with my musical passion craving new avenues, at 15 I found myself trying out "fringe" musicians sneakily (alt rock mostly). I had no idea at the time what Napster was, but an uncle of mine did. So I'd put together a list of songs I wanted to try out, (think Foo Fighters and Ash) and he'd burn a CD for me. None of my friends knew. I was too unsure of myself to risk being labeled "uncool." And in my school, the only people who were "cool" were people who had all the words to the latest single memorized.

From a secret love of alt rock, I eventually moved into what I discovered was labeled "Indie Music." It took me a long time to find a term that fit my evolving tastes. The enlightenment fell into my lap unexpectedly. I'd turned the TV on to some shitty version of MTV called FUSE. They were playing music videos (something the real MTV stopped doing somewhere in the late 90's when it discovered reality TV), and without meaning to, I'd somehow stumbled upon a collection of videos that magically all fit my taste perfectly. I sat, enthralled, memorizing each band name as it came up in the bottom corner. The Strokes, Campfire Girls, Queens of the Stone Age, The White Stripes, etc., etc.

To my consternation, the collection suddenly ended. But thankfully, there, on the screen, was the title for the group of videos they'd been showing. "INDIE." I stared. I connected. And without knowing the implications, right then and there, I labeled myself an Indie Girl. From that moment on, a voracious search for more of what I liked ensued.

The next year a good friend burned a copy of The Photo Album by Death Cab for Cutie for me.

My life as it is now, unbeknownst to me, took it's first huge shift onto it's current path one year later when a good friend burned a copy of Death Cab for Cutie's The Photo Album for me. I took that album to England and listened to it one night in a hotel room in Leeds. After that first listen, I listened to it every morning and every night I was in England. And then every day thereafter. It changed how I felt about the world. Later that year Transatlanticism came out. The same friend played it in my car. I rather rudely asked if I could borrow his brand new CD to burn a copy (because I didn't know at the time where to buy it. Tt wasn't at the corporate music stores yet). He reluctantly agreed, and I had one of the most beautiful afternoons and evenings of my life.

Somehow finding Death Cab is what finally convinced me to let go of the radio. I stopped caring about anything mainstream. I immersed myself in an entirely new culture. Indie became my religion. Death Cab, my bible. The fans were my people. I joined the message boards and found a group of outsiders just like myself. People who got it. Who understood the music. Who felt a physical connection to it. I hadn't known anyone else like that before. And I hadn't listened to anything that described my life so fully before. It fit like a soundtrack.

As each of the bands I loved became mainstream, I moved on to more and more obscure artists. And these days, the music I love most is weird and unlike anything that can be heard on a radio station. I'm an "Indie Elite." A snob. I despise hipsters and the vapidity that has taken over my generation. I grope for music that still tries for meaning both in melody and lyric.

And yet, I find that euphoric connection to albums, artists and songs less and less as time goes by. The things I feel love for are few and far between. I don't get excited like I used to. And it's made me feel a little empty. I don't spend hours lying in bed or on the floor or between headphones listening to the one or two bands of the moment that make me feel alive and so excited I can barely breathe. I haven't decided if this is due to a lack of time, a lack of depression or a lack of being alone. But whatever it is, I miss those full body highs. I miss music happening to me the way it used to. Who am I if I'm not obsessing over the new and the next meaningful musical experience of my life? I sure as hell don't know. Because from 3 to 20, it's all I had.

Things that make me sad

Well, sad/frustrated.

The scratches in my new wood floors that took Adam 4 days to install.

The ink splotches, scratches and stains on my darling dining room table and chairs that took me forever to pick out and that I lovingly put together. They were probably my favorite pieces of furniture and now they're all scuffed and damaged and covered in food particles to boot because let's face it: people don't take care of things that aren't theirs.

Not actually having any time to be home and enjoy the house I've put so much work and love into.

Not having enough money to eat healthily. I've been living off of whatever Adam has around and Cup Noodles.

Not having time to watch much by way of movies. I've been in the mood for either Miyazaki or Fellini. Rather peculiar cravings, admittedly, but it is what it is.

So that's my little whine fest for the moment. Sorry. Annoying, I'm sure. Just having a bit of a hard time lately.

On the bright side, I'm really enjoying work. I've put a lot into getting dispense organized and recognizing and pointing out some of the places we're leaking money, so to speak. I really care about this school and I want it to succeed because I want to succeed.

I'm also doing well in school. I'm on my April grid despite it being only February. And I'm learning more and more about color every day. Which I love!

I'm also going to try to start an exercise program next month with some girls from school. This technically means less sleep and less time at home, but I feel like it'll give me some much needed energy. And hopefully it'll help me stop feeling so grumpy and mad at people.

I've lost about 25 lbs since starting school and I'm hoping more exercise will help me drop some more. Goal? To need an entirely new wardrobe by the time I'm finished with school because nothing fits. I'm getting close now, really. But I'm going to have to keep wearing what I have until I have some money for things like that again.

Anyway, if you're still reading, thanks for caring. I just needed a little vent session. These are definitely (annoyingly I'm sure) getting more frequent as I get more overwhelmed. But with a little exercise and some more time settling into my crazy schedule, I'm hoping my mood will improve.

Los Angeles

ISSE. Great fun! I learned a lot. Best lessons: how to cut long layers dry, and how to make color look good without taking 2 hours for foil placements and processing time. Both from Karg and Blackwell's class.

I did my makeup every day this weekend, including at 4 this morning before catching the bus to the airport at 5. I haven't worn makeup in almost a month. I'd forgotten how much I love it.

Disneyland is great, but never go on Splash Mountain after the sun goes down. It's really uncomfortable to walk around with soaking wet pants for three hours.

I've been thinking about what I want to do after school. I have some options. And I hope to have them figured out by the time I graduate. I'd love to take some Vidal Sassoon finishing classes to help me with cutting and foil placement. But I'm sure I won't have the money for those right away. In the meantime I'm going to have to stick to videos I think. Anyway, I really want to work at a high end salon. Maybe that's snobby of me, but I just agree with the way they run things.

For instance: I want a color line that has separate tones, not premixed ones. I'm excellent at color formulation. I'd like to put that to good use. I also want a salon that has a chair in the color dispensary, because I don't want my clients to see how they look in a cape with foils all over the place. No one looks good like that! I want them to see the finished product, not the in between.

I want to sell high end, organic and probably vegan lines. I thoroughly believe that what you put on your skin is nearly equivalent to what you put in your body. I don't want harsh chemicals in my body, and I certainly don't want my skin soaking those chemicals in through cosmetics.

I want to be a dry cutting stylist. I think it's soooo much better if you can learn how to do it well. Buuut, I also want to do free form. So I'm going to have to learn how to combine the two.

Anyway, just a few of the things on my mind lately. My goal for the next few months: to bring in some new clients at school and work on my retail and client retention skills. Those are the most important if I want to land a job at a good salon when I'm done with school. I also really really really want to take Nicholas French's class in March. I've been waiting for this class to come so I hope I can save up the money to go. I think it would help me infinitely in photoshoots.

I'm back to cold Utah weather now, but LA and ISSE will not be forgotten! And I'm excited to get back into the swing of things.

Sidenotes

I still get peevish when I want to wear something of mine a past roommate has taken. Mostly hats, shoes, and a smattering of American Apparel goods.

If you're a declared "film major," you should probably know something about film. And not just the billion dollar movies that top the box office every weekend.

When a haircolor doesn't turn out the way you expected, the first rule, according to Milady's Cosmetology text book, is "Stay calm. Do not panic." I find this is also true when life situations don't turn out the way you expected. Sometimes I forget the first rule.

I find I'm a "quiet music listener." Something my parents probably would have disputed in my teenage years. But many car rides with various "loud music listeners" later, I am led to believe I really do prefer music to be played quieter than most.

I'm worried about my grandma.

Although I don't play video games all that often (Farmville excluded), I tend to become obsessive about ones I do play. I cannot stop playing or thinking about playing until I've beaten the game. It's a compulsion.

I'm starting to really like Anime (though I've only seen a little). Please don't judge me. (Or do, I guess. It doesn't really matter, does it?)

Being a girl is wonderful and terrible.

Wonderful: having maternal instincts that make one more likely to care for and about people.
Terrible: having maternal instincts that make one more likely to feel obsessively protective of people one cares for and about.

Wonderful: the opportunity to create, bear and mother children.
Terrible: including but not limited to pissy, crying, blubbering, bloating mood swings; blood oozing out one's vagina; the tearing of one's genitals in order to produce the above mentioned children, making it not impossible to pee but impossible to clean oneself without the use of a spray bottle because toilet paper is not an option; uncontrollable vomiting from gestating said children; drooping, dripping boobs; and of course, menopause.

Wonderful: the innate love of things that are perfectly miniature, soft, smooth, delicate, and all around adorable.
Terrible: the not so innate, paralyzing necessity to be perfectly miniature, soft, smooth, delicate and all around adorable so other people will love us.

Wonderful: having boobs and hips and all around curves.
Terrible: the ease with which weight is gained and, post-childbearing, is practically inevitable.

These are just a few things.

Now to you boys who want to say "being male is just as hard!" I say:
Yeah, yeah, wet dreams. Spurting semen once every few weeks during your adolescence seems a lot less inconvenient than gushing blood for an entire week once a month from ages 10 to 60.
And unexpected boners? Annoying and embarrassing yes, but more embarrassing than standing up and walking around only to have a complete stranger point out you've got a telltale red stain on your bottom? I think not.
Bringing home the bacon? With the number of stay-at-home moms that are being replaced by stay-at-home dads, I'd say that's bunk.

During my non-crazy-emotional-pms moments, I do actually really enjoy being feminine. But sometimes I wish I was a boy. Sometimes I wish I could have played in the mud and climbed trees without fear, that I could walk around without a tampon shoved inside my purse for emergency moments, that I didn't have to worry about getting my clothes dirty or stained, that a skinned knee was a battle wound to be proud of, not something that made me tear up. It's not easy being a girl. All I can really say, I suppose, is that I'll take what I can get and try to be thankful for the rays of light that seep through the sometimes misery that is being a woman. There are things that make femininity livable, even if they don't exactly ever even out.

I really should be sleeping

I have work early in the morning. But upon my last email check of the day, I discovered a comment on a rather... well... infamous blog post of mine... that my "articles" are getting much better than they used to be. I'm not sure that's true, but I went back to check anyway. And I realized I've had this little blog for two years now. That's much longer than I'd expected. It's been a great little place to air my feelings and share the things I like or love.

I'm still not sure that my posts are getting better, but I'll tell you the main difference I see: I'm actually a real person these days. I'm not trying to be anyone, I'm just me and I'm happy with that. For once. I've come to terms with many of my imperfections, and this past year especially has forced me to face a lot of my own insecurities and weaknesses. I've grown very much since Snappy Little Alligator started.

I had a thought while falling asleep last night. It was this: there aren't very many grown ups in the world, are there? There are a lot of adults who pretend their age matters and that gives them certain rights, but really, those adults are probably more childish* than most. And some think they're so grown up because they've got degrees or some kind of high paying job. But what a grown up really is... well... what I think a grown up really is... is a humble, kind, forgiving person, who has experienced the world in all of its glory and darkness, and can not only face their own follies, but tries with all their might to correct whatever foibles they may have. These grown ups do not make excuses, they do not expect others to do for them what they can do for themselves, they do not waste what precious time they have on things that simply do not matter.

More than anything, I'd like to become one of these people. Not necessarily because it's better, in fact it seems more wearying really. But because now that I've seen the difference between the grown ups and the children, I don't see how I could ever again be ok with acting like a child. The times when I slip back into child mode, I come out of it realizing what a mistake I've made. It's too glaring now for me to go back to the way it used to be.

* I want to note that when I say childish, I do not mean childlike, which in general is a positive term. In this case, child and childish are rather pejorative terms, sadly. I mean that those who are most childish act like spoiled brats who should get everything their way. Few are that bad, but from what I've noticed, most humans are on a sliding scale of childishness, with very very few achieving adulthood. The problem is mostly that no one is aware nor willing to consider their own childishness; they only want to point out some one else's imperfection.

Just listen to Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses.

I'm going to bitch/whine for a minute. Because I'm grumpy and grinchy and bah-humbuggy and because I've decided I can. And if you feel like I'm being mean to you because you've done exactly what I'm talking about - either to me or to someone else you know - well, suck it up and take it like a man. No need for pouting, just try to shape up so that next year you don't end up with a lump of coal that looks eerily like a long lost friendship.

Why do people think that because I'm single and home alone this holiday that the only thing I could possibly feel like doing is picking up their slack?* Is it because I've made grand gestures about wishing, more than anything else, that this holiday I'd be able to do the same crap I do every other day of the year? (Namely taking care of people's pets, clothes, dishes, appointments, hair, groceries, etc. etc.) Because if so, someone should have woken me - I was obviously talking through a deep slumber that somehow transfered me into your own dream world.

Because honestly, the very last thing I want to do on my little lonely Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, is take care of all the little things you either didn't have time to do, forgot about, or just planned out very poorly. I don't want to clean up after your animal. I don't want to do your dishes. I don't want to babysit. I don't want to rearrange my schedule because earlier or later or now or anytime OTHER than the one I requested works better for your wife or wait your brother, oh actually your sister-in-law, no, now your cousin. I don't want to dig through your piles of crap to find something you forgot to arrange beforehand. I don't want to deal with things you've left at my house because you were too lazy or just forgot to take them with you and now you just don't feel like picking them up. I don't want to do your errands for you. I don't want to take over your responsibilities just because YOU want a break and I obviously don't need one for whatever reason you've justified in your me-centered brain this Christmas.

I do all those things listed above the other 363 days of the year. Really. If you don't believe me, let me leave for a week while you continue to come over to my house and make messes and announce your usual requests and not clean up after yourself, or anyone else for that matter, and we'll see where it lands you. I promise, it won't be a pretty site.

I have the next week and - almost - a half off. And I better not get one single request from anyone. Talk to Adam. If he says he'll do it, then fine, but don't ask me. Because I won't. For the next 11 months, I will be attending school and work each week a total of 70 hours combined. After the new year, I'll get back to dealing with all the crap you're too self centered and blind to deal with yourself. But for now, I just want to enjoy my one last week off in peace because I obviously didn't get a Christmas Eve or Christmas break in the meantime.

*As a side note, I do realize that my worst enemy in this scenario is myself. Because I'm so absolutely terrible at saying no, and because I thought that somehow, magically, everyone's requests would simply stop for the holidays since so few people are (or were supposed to be) in town. I was sorely mistaken. I severely overlooked people's ability to text, IM and call in requests from hundreds of miles away. And my inability to say no has landed me here, busy with other people's problems on my two most cherished days of the year**. Next year, I'M going out of town. Somewhere without cell phone reception. And I'm putting my house on lock down so that no one, and I mean NO ONE, can leave me a big mess to come back to.

**And as another side note, I'm really sad that my favorite holiday and two favorite days are so miserable this year. I didn't even have enough money to get a tree and hang my decorations. If I'd had even a little bit extra, I'd have gotten one and wrapped a few things I wanted this year for myself just to have something to wake up to tomorrow. As it is, I have nothing to put in my stocking, no tree with lights to look at while sitting in the warm dark, no special Christmas breakfast, not even cards from my family to open. And it would have been ok, really it would have, if I'd at least been able to do with this holiday what I wanted, but I haven't even been allowed to do that. I've spent it resentfully doing things for people that I didn't want to do but did anyway because I can't say no and because... well... I love them. Even if I don't exactly like them very much right now. I'm heartbroken and frustrated right now.

it's that thing

adam's playing this new song he wrote, and i've been feeling nostalgic for days and suddenly i kind of feel like crying. not necessarily a sad cry. just a times-now-gone cry. i tend to miss people years or even decades after they've gone from my life. even the darkest times had bright moments. and i somehow miss them all. the lovely, the mediocre, the tragic. i mourn things that no longer exist, even when their passing was good and natural.

Ben Gibbard, please write another song about my life. I need to know how this mess ends!

So, a little update on my life:
1. I am working between 30 and 40 hours a week and going to school 20+ hours a week. Yeah. Really. I'm at my school working and going to class for 12 hours a day, Tuesday through Thursday. It's insanity!
2. I officially qualify as obsessed with cosmetics. I'll spare you the details, but the summary is: Lush, Sephora, and the M.A.C. Pro Store plus waaay too much money.
3. I'm doing a photo shoot this Saturday that I'm starting to get a bit stressed out about. I'm doing makeup and it's for a website called Shabby Apple. If anyone runs into me in the next few days and I seem out of sorts, blame it on that and some lady things for which I am cursing my insurance company vehemently.
4. Adam and I have decided to get a cat. I am freaking excited. I love animals and sadly Elisa and her doggie are moving out this winter, leaving Adam and I pet-less. So we've decided to get a kitten. I'm not going to lie, about 90% of our decision was based on this video: The Cutest Video of All Time (It really does live up to it's name). Adam has expressed wanting a long haired cat, I think I want short haired. I definitely want it to be gray or white or a mix of both though. So the kitten search will commence as soon as my Christmas break starts and I have more time at home for things other than sleep.
5. On the topic of roommates, Jenee and Dane are moving in downstairs come January and I couldn't be more pleased! I love those crazy kids. And they're talking about possibly getting a pug so kitty (whom I want to name Basket, by the way, which Adam disapproves of) will have a friend. And hopefully they will get along. Friends, not frenemies.
6. I'm really going to miss Elisa.
7. School is really not going fast enough. I'm at 600 hours out of 2000. Night school takes soooo much longer than day school!

That's it for now really. Life is hectic and free time is limited these days but overall I'm enjoying myself and thoroughly appreciative of the people I do see in the moments between darting here and there.