Archive | February, 2010


26 Feb

i can’t help it. old pictures. new computer. these faces were begging to be shared with the web worldwide.

they get me. and i miss these faces tonight.

photo by the great lynn stanger.


another great by lynn stanger.

sneaky smiles.

yet again, lynn stanger.

best franz

you guessed it - lynn stanger.


i wouldn’t be me without these far-away friends.

in the salon chair

24 Feb

i got my hairs cut this week. all of them. i left feeling fresh, rejuvenated, and a little sweaty.

something about getting my hair cut turns me into another person. a nervous, awkward person with creepy eyebrows, pasty skin, and wandering eyes. i can’t focus, i can’t speak right. i’d agree to a buzz cut if i thought the stylist would think i was normal.

i don’t think the fault lies entirely with the fluorescent salon lighting – although it is the only place i can clearly see the scar on my cheek, so clearly that i start wondering which moon crater it most closely resembles.

my right cheek art, but my face is a bit less grey

my face is less grey, don't fret.

i think it’s this one, but that’s beside the point.

what boggles this mind is the transformative power of a place that is supposed to spoil, dote, and feel indulgent. what force pulls the anxious abby out of her hiding place when i put on that cape?

is it insecurity? i know the slicked back rat hair isn’t really my best look, but i can easily trust the awkward in between is all for the good of the great hair being sculpted out of my nest. no, i don’t think what throws off my balance is physical.

less about the hair.

is it fear of being found less-than? less than interesting, less than normal, less than the most engaging person in the room? i come ready with my bag of conversational tricks – tidbits to make the stylist giggle or at least tell a long-enough story to take her mind of my nervous laugh.

yes, i think it’s less about the hair, and more about the bare, exposed feeling sitting in front of a mirror for that long leaves me. so many things stare back. scars, eyebrows, big thoughts. things that definitely need an hour in front of the mirror to surface. an hour i don’t willingly give. it’s clear i need that face time with myself more often, and not for vanity’s sake.

paradox alert: in losing hair, i gain some bit of perspective on what’s beneath the surface. can i write that off as therapy?

dear monday me / february 22 2010

22 Feb

chapters come in waves, or vice versa.

but you don’t have to feel their pull. some books are chapterless. that seems more fitting.

who says a change can be limited to a page — a certain, tangible turn?

be comfortable in your paragraph, and let it be as long as it wants.


short . . .

just keep reading.