Tag Archives: personal narratives

… and straw shouldn’t go in my hair, don’t you think?

I realize that’s a ridiculous and unnecessary rhyme, but I wanted to preface this ridiculous and unnecessary post with something that’s as goofy as I am.

I’ve never worn straw in my hair, I should say. I have thick, super-curly hair, so I try not to stick too many foreign objects in my curls. I have to admit that I did put feathers in my hair back in 2012 — back when that was trendy.

I only wore clip-on feathers. I didn’t get any sewn in. If any Gen Z or Gen A folks are reading this and didn’t realize that Hair Feathers were not only a real thing, but also the height of early 2010s Indie Sleaze fashion, then … let me disabuse you of the notion that anything that awkward couldn’t possibly be it.

Hair feathers were it and then some. Everyone from tweens to forty-something indie rockers got in on the befeathering. 2012 was a wild year, that’s true — but I miss that era so much. Not to be stuck in the past, but I really loved the Blog House/Indie Sleaze years.

The only other “accessory” I’ve worn woven into my hair — other than a headband or flower crown — is rice. This was entirely accidental. I went to a Halloween showing of Rocky Horror and I walked around with rice in my hair for several days. Even after washing and detangling it, I would find little grains of rice. I dealt with that situation by combing it all out, one grain at a time.

Back in November, I would braid my hair every night before going to bed — but every morning, it would look more wild than ever. From time to time, my hair looked decent in the morning, but by mid-afternoon, it looked like frizzy straw. I felt like a hay bale.

But everything changed when I bought the UnBrush. This brush is incredible. I’m not doing any spon-con — and I don’t want to.

I just want all the curly-haired folks to know that this brush works wonders! I love it!

I have never been self-employed.

Not really, I should say. I’ve always been in school, working for someone else, or doing both of those things. Other than a brief period of unemployment after finishing graduate school, I’ve always been studying or working.

But because I’m friends with lots of folks who do media and art — freelance writers, photographers, videographers, folks who draw and paint — I see that lots of my friends have their own studios, or LLCs, or business accounts on Facebook.

I’ve never been tempted to set up my own business, because I know that it’s not for me. The two most “business venture”-y things I’ve done:

(1) I started a podcast, but I only posted about twenty episodes over the course of a year. That was more of a personal project, anyway, so I didn’t expect to sell any ads or make any money.

(2) I have a Teepspring storefront, where I “sell” all sorts of shirts (and stickers and mugs) with silly slogans on them. I’ve never made many sales — but I didn’t plan on making that my primary source of income.

With the podcast and the storefront, I didn’t feel like I was making “business moves.” They were just fun creative projects. Not very time-intensive, and they didn’t involve too much labor.

I like a good project. I’ve done lots of projects, from helping to build a deck to filling sandbags to doing bad oil paintings — but I don’t want a second job.

And this is coming from someone who’s worked two jobs at the same time before. I remember my six-day work-weeks and the days where I would work from 8 AM to 8 PM. I like being able to come home and have dinner before 9 PM.

I don’t want my own photography business — even though I only shoot landscapes and no portraits, so that point is moot — or my own freelance writing/PR business, because it seems like a lot of work for minimal payout.

The market is chock full o’nuts saturated right now. Everyone in the market has a podcast, a blog, a content creator page, a professional page, and a wall of platitudes that they sit in front of during their Zoom consulting sessions. Everyone in the market is worried about aesthetics, monetizing hobbies, side hustles, and branding. Everyone has a personal brand that features their name and their image quite prominently. Everyone has been told to brand themselves — because it could affect your business(es), past, present, and future.

Earlier today, I saw a post bemoaning this face-first style of branding. The marketer said that they were actually getting tired of having to brand every post, to make sure every post fit Their Brand, to get dressed up a certain way to film their content, to have their personal page linked to their business page, and so on and so forth. They said that their “next business” would be “faceless” — as a means of reclaiming some privacy.

I SMH’d IRL. (And I don’t really say things like that — but that’s precisely what I did.)

“SMH,” I said. “Starting a second or third business just to have some more privacy?”

I understand where they’re coming from. I do. That’s why this blog is semi-anonymous. (I don’t post pictures on here, and I think only people who know me on a personal level would be able to speak on the Real Sally — whoever that is.)

But I think it’s wild how people are overburdened by their side hustles and business ventures — so they’ve decided to start another one. 😵‍💫

I see what the ultimate goal is — to jump ship from the photography business to the anonymous “Farmer’s Wife” recipe blog, from the photo-heavy recipe blog to the anonymous “Angora Lady” yarn sales site, from the knitting YouTube vlog to a faceless vlog with close-up shots of the hands, only.

People are tired of getting dressed up for their cooking videos — and they’re realizing they could just show shots of the counter and their hands. They don’t have to put on a full face of makeup or trim their beard to do an audio-only podcast about urban legends. People just want to be comfortable while they’re working. Having to be on all the time — as an influencer, as a micro-celebrity — is exhausting.

I’m glad I’ve never started a business. I’m fine with following someone else’s rules during the day, so that I can go home at night and not have to worry about things like overhead, sales figures, SEO, brand reach, or anything that requires strategic financial planning.

I’m glad I’m not an influencer, or a content creator, or a consultant. I am an anonymous blogger — and this is the only faceless business I plan on having.

I used to be “normal.”

Not in first grade, when I chewed on pencil erasers.

Not in second grade, when I got in trouble for sending dirty little notes in class — notes with extremely vulgar language! — to my best friend.

Not in third grade, when the teacher sent me to the front office to get checked for head lice — because I had dried shampoo in my hair.

Not in fourth grade, when I suddenly got heavier and wider than all of my classmates.

Not in fifth grade, when I started over at a new school and had a hard time fitting in.

Not in sixth grade, when I missed ten days of class just because I would get stress-induced stomach aches.

Not in seventh grade, when a classmate told everyone I was a lesbian just because I didn’t have a boyfriend. Not in seventh grade, when kids would make fun of my super curly hair.

Not in eighth grade, when kids were still making fun of my super curly hair.

Not in ninth grade, when my hair would get matted sometimes from not being brushed properly, because I was so depressed.

Not in tenth grade, when I felt hopeless and lonely.

Not in eleventh grade, when I struggled with my classes and realized I wasn’t really a good student.

Not in twelfth grade, when I realized I wasn’t ready for college, but that I would be expected to enroll anyway.

Not in college, when I would go to class while I was depressed, when I could barely muster the energy to shave my legs or take a shower or any of that.

Not in grad school — oh, no. Sorry. That is when I felt like a normal person. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was finally pulling things together. At 22, I finally felt normal.

Until later that year — 2016 — when everything seemed to go downhill for everybody — politically, personally, all the way around.

By 2020, I became socially-anxious, silly, germaphobic, and awkward — and it became even worse after 2020. I don’t recognize my own personality, most days. I can tell I rub other people the wrong way, but I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong — because I’m going through the same motions as everyone else. Maybe they can sense the fact that I’m lost — behind it all, I’m lost.

I felt lost between 2016 and 2020, and then I felt even more lost between 2020 and 2023.

I guess know I lost myself — the woman who was normal for one year.

I know it sounds corny, but I’ll find myself again. In 2030, maybe — or maybe tomorrow.

One can hope.

The last man I dated in college — and I hesitate to even call it dating, because I’m so selective that I rarely even go out to eat as a duo, just me and a fella — used to smoke American Spirit cigarettes.

He wasn’t American, I should say. I would hesitate to date an American who smokes, but I’m more inclined to forgive it in non-Americans. I really, really don’t like it — but I know that smoking in public isn’t necessarily frowned upon in some European and Asian countries.

Al fresco cafés are filled with chain smokers and, while I don’t take a romantic view of smoking, I feel a certain kinship with the smoking clown in Edward Hopper’s Soir Bleu.

But I do remember being a little appalled at the fact that, in the 2010s, people were still smoking as a pastime. Even then, it made me feel a bit uncomfortable — and I’ve never dated anyone who vapes, which I imagine would make me feel even more uncomfortable.

I’m not trying to be a hater. I just … I’m not a smoker. I find other ways to cope with my oppressive anxiety, like picking my hangnails and updating my blog.