I always joked I'd end up with a "Pirate"

"SR Logan, G. A-190"

My "Puddle Pirate", as they're sometimes called, is finishing up week 03 of boot camp. The days drag on, but the weeks fly by. How does that work? I have no clue. But we're nearing the 1/2 way mark. Only 35 more days until the graduation ceremony.  Every week or so a recruit from each company writes a short blog post on the events and progress they have been experiencing, as well as stress and yelling. Here is where you can read all about G's company, Alpha 190, and the latest "adventures", or misadventures, they are having. This is just the first post...I don't know how these guys get through this...I certainly would never be brave enough, and I am incredibly thankful for them.

Thirty. Five. More. Days.

Now that she's back in the atmosphere...

Well, I'm back. And boy, what a trip...

It was an adventure. I relaxed. I ran around. Had some nice late night talks curled up at the kitchen table with a mug of tea. Had some crazy days spent hurrying here and there, never staying in the same place for more than a couple hours. I hung out with old friends, feeling like family. I met crazy awesome new people. I spent about 50 hours of my life on a train and am now pretty familiar with Amtrak...there and back I had a lay over in Chicago, and so was privileged to roam around the beautiful Windy City with 3 amazing dudes.

I left with little expectations, hoping to maybe just quiet my soul, listen to God, and visit my friends...and if God happened to nudge me in any direction, that would be awesome too.
I returned with a lot to think about.
While I was there opportunities arose. Internships came up. Chances to shadow at salons. As well as missions opportunities.

And ever since I got back a feeling has been growing in me...something that's always been there that now is spreading. I've never really been able to describe it, and it's frustrating. But the other night I was having a conversation with one of my best friends. One of those conversations that fall under the "If I don't get out of here soon I'll be stuck here for the rest of my life, that I don't know what I'm doing with anyways" category...I'm sure you have those all the time...

We talked about jobs. We talked about monotonous life. We talked about restlessness...We talked about senioritis.


Finally I tried to put this feeling that I had into words and it came out like this:

"...Do you ever get that feeling like...let's see if I can describe it - 

like, you were made for something more? That growing up, finishing school and getting a job and routine just wasn't what was intended for you? That you were created, not for something mundane and monotonous, but for something truly breathtaking and extraordinary? Cause...that seems to be how I feel. And like that desire for the extraordinary is trying to claw it's way out...like it's suffocating at the thought of never getting to see the sun...or maybe I just have to much of an imagination...?"

So...yep. That's where I'm at right now...perhaps this was a nudge in a direction...guess we'll see. 

The Bean*

*(I have now seen The Bean, one of Chicago's great works of modern architecture I am told...but secretly I'm pretty sure it's an idol to the Americans love of coffee...see for yourself. ;) )

This is my Therapy

"And you're kept in an open cage, So you're free to leave or stay.Sometimes you get confused, Like there's a hint I am trying to give you."

"talking bird" by Death  Cab For Cutie

Poorly drawn picture...by me.

I believe I've mentioned before about how much I love road trips, and have joked about having a touch of gypsy blood in me. I've expressed my restlessness of being in one place for too long (even though I always come back home.) I've talked about my longing for adventure and how I've made due by trekking through the rain and creating crazy story plots inside my head. 
And so...I find myself yet again feeling those stirring desires in my heart to go on an adventure and travel far far away...
I thought about it for a while, weighed my options, bounced thoughts and opinions off of close friends, prayed, and drank more than my outrageously large quota of coffee. 


The fact is, I still have no job. Let me reword that. I have no stationary job. No salon to call 'home', and not because there's a lack of salons or opportunities. When the Velvet Touch and I parted ways, somewhere in me, I felt peace. It was an odd and unexpected thing to feel upon losing a job. 
An opportunity for a stylist position in another salon arose, and I pursued it, but something about it just didn't feel right. It's hard to explain, but I couldn't shake it. Nothing came from this pursued position. But here's the beauty of it. My job doesn't have to be stationary! I can take it with me wherever I go...which means I can travel :) 


And so, after some deliberation, I have decided to go on my adventure. Finally. 
I have nothing that's holding me here. I have no salon to report to. No major responsibilities to look after. No relationships tying me down. So, I ask myself, why not? 


I've got a lot on my mind, and I'm a curious soul. Travel is a therapy to me. Staring out a window, watching the world pass by at blurring speeds, my mind seems to process things clearly. And so, I've purchased a train ticket, and next Sunday I begin my journey. To where? The Midwest. Kansas City, Missouri. Why? Because I have good friends out there (They're in the middle of an adoption, check them out and see how you can help contribute HERE!), and they belong to a church that I've been wanting to visit.


And so, I'm running away. Because I can. 

"I never thought I'd be driving through the country just to drive

With only music and the clothes that I woke up in

I never thought I'd need all this time alone it goes to show

I had so much yet I had need for nothing

But you

This is just therapy

Let's call it what it is

(Not what we were)

With a death-grip on this life always transitioning

This is just therapy

Cause you won't take my calls

and that makes God the only one who's left here listening to me

Letting it all sink in

It's good to feel a sting now and again

I hope it's one less woeful thing there is to fight through

Forgetting it all begin

Fresh paper and nice expensive pen

The past can not subtract a thing from what I might do

For you

Unless that's what I let it do

Loneliness and solitude are two things not to get confused

Cause I spend my solitude with you

I gather all the questions of the things I just can't get straight

And I answer them the way I guess you'd do

Cause this is my therapy

Cause you're the only one that's listening to me

This is my therapy

Let's call it what it is not what we were

With a death-grip on this life that's in transition

This is my therapy

Cause you won't hear me out

and that makes God the only one who's left here listening"

I tend to sing this when I start to get restless and need a road trip...so, on a pretty regular basis.

thinking on these things...

"How beautiful are the feet of those who bring Good News."

Romans 10:15

I'm old enough to know that time doesn't move slow enough...

It feels like just a couple weeks ago that my class and I reached the fabled '200 HOURS' mark. When an individual reaches 200 hours of training they are allowed to have their friends and family come in to have services done. It's also a little more than half way until we are allowed to take normal people (i.e: walk-ins, scheduled clients, absolute strangers, the bum on the corner) as clients. 450 hours is the next "milestone"

[If any of you are interested in visiting me I strongly encourage you to come in! Let me know a day or two in advance or something tho, but if you're interested in something other than a hair cut I advise you look at the Salon's Menu http://studyhair.com/services.shtml first. I'm more than willing to come help you with something - if I can - outside the Salon to help you save your mula.]

Only three of us have actually taken advantage of that, I brought my mom in for a cut :), the advantage being that we are actually performing services on live individuals that move, talk, and have to go out in public with the hair on their heads instead of being stuffed into plastic bags and then jammed into a locker in a backroom somewhere(not that my seven friends don't enjoy that, then again they don't talk much so I wouldn't know ;) ).

But today I recieved my progress report, a sheet of paper that has on it how many hours you have to date, and how many hours you should have if you came everyday, clocked in on time, didn't clock out for unalotted breaks, and clocked out exactly at 3:00. Somehow...I've reached 300 hours. Not quite sure how that happened so quickly. It really is quite amazing how time goes by so quickly. The older I get, the faster it goes. On one hand this is in my favor - this year of school will go by fast! On the other though....I don't want it to go by so quickly! On the 15th of March the new freshman class will come in and I will graduate to the sophmore class. *un-be-liev-able* I'm 1/4 of the way through and its flown by.

We're currently working on our Floor Exams. These are also known as Practical Tests. We have been given a list of the most popular services performed on the Clinic Floor and are required to do them all in a somewhat timed environment and get a passing grade. This list must be completed before we are allowed to be unleashed on the unsuspecting public. The thing is, they're giving us this exam early. It appears that the teachers feel that the Freshman class of Dec. '09 are ready a bit before the normal time. It also appears the the Freshman class of Dec. '09 do not feel ready before, or maybe even at, the normal time....but we have to do this at some point and none of us are failing, so why not?

Guess you'll be seeing a semi-professional hairstylist on the Floor in a week or two ;)

singing is a way of prayer

It's been a while. Sorry :)

Last night at about 12:30, or early in the morning I suppose you could say, I was up late journaling and listening to music when the lyrics of the song being sung hit me. It wasn't just the lyrics though, it was the fact that the song was not just music and lyrics put together to praise the Lord, but a prayer. And so I did what I do nearly every time I find a song that sparks something in me, I write out the lyrics. And as I wrote, I prayed. I sang the lyrics aloud as a request to my God.

That's what David did. He wrote his Psalms and he sang them in prayer. So I've made this song a psalm of my heart.

Take my life, and let it be Consecrated, Lord, to Thee; Take my moments and my days, let them flow in ceaseless praise, let them flow in ceaseless praise.
Take my hands, and let them move at the impulse of Thy love; take my feet, and let them be swift and beautiful for Thee, swift and beautiful for Thee.
Take my voice and let me sing Always only for my King; take my lips, and let them be filled with messages from Thee, filled with messages from Thee.
Take my silver and my gold, not a mite would I withhold: Take my intellect, and use ev’ry pow’r as Thou shalt choose, ev’ry pow’r as Thou shalt choose.
Take my will, and make it Thine;It shall be no longer mine:Take my heart, it is Thine own;It shall be Thy royal throne, It shall be Thy royal throne.
Take my love, my Lord, I pour At Thy feet its treasure store:Take myself, and I will be ever, only, all for Thee, ever, only, all for Thee.

Hairitage

Heritage.
–noun
1. something that comes or belongs to one by reason of birth; an inherited lot or portion: a heritage of poverty and suffering; a national heritage of honor, pride, and courage.
2. something reserved for one: the heritage of the righteous.
3. Law.
a. something that has been, or may be inherited by legal descent or succession.
b. any property, esp. land, that devolves by right of inheritance.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Origin:
1175–1225; ME < MF, equiv. to heriter to inherit + -age -age; see heir
Synonyms:
1. estate, patrimony. See inheritance.


This past weekend my family and I took off to the big ole' state of Pennsylvania where most of my relatives reside. While there I found out that my grandmother was not the only beautician in the family, and I heard some interesting stories. As it turns out, my grandmother's brother, Uncle George, married a beautician...two of the in fact.

My great Uncle George was married three times. His first wife, Milly, was a hairdresser and is just now getting out of her practice. While we were there she gave me rolling trolley that has lots of shelves to hold curlers, and clips, and towels, and a hot iron, and such things. Uncle George's third wife, Franny, was also a beautician and on occasion still does hair. As time went by quite a few more relatives popped up in conversation who, at one time or another, had been in this profession.

While we were visiting, my cousin , Elissa, and aunt, Julie, told us they visited a beauty school and were looking in to applying. Two more of my mother's siblings have professed a desire to go into hair, but don't think they can now because of their age. Another aunt went to school for aesthetics(nails). Until this visit I had no idea just how much of a family business this was. It wasn't just my grandparents and I, but a good chunk of my family who has gone before me who have invested themselves at one time or another in this profession.

It's in my family. It's in my blood. This is my profession. This, is my heritage.

....or should I say Hairitage ;)