Waning Nostalgic

Four days isn't a long time, even if the two of them spent in airport terminals and transcontinental flights feel lengthy.

I went back to my old alma mater this weekend, but without the prerequisite drunken scaling and attempted making out with of the bronze sculpture. For one thing, my knee was still slightly messed up from wiping out on my bike and I'll be damned if I get injured due to my own stupidity while on vacation.

First obstacle, my flight was delayed, so unfortunately I was unable to make it to my old employer's/textbook store in time before they closed. I had even transported a pink box of Voodoo Doughnuts for their enjoyment, as per our unofficial tradition of me going somewhere and then bringing back some sort of goody for the text department to share. I texted and called a couple of people to check in/apologize for not making it. Then I alerted whoever I could think of who was in my cell phone contact list and most likely to still be in town that I would be at Murphy's around 8:00 p.m. when I arrived at the airport.

Anyway, Green Street was pretty deserted considering it was 1) summer and b) Memorial Day weekend so anyone actually still taking class was probably home visiting family anyway. Jenna and I ate dinner at Za's for old time's sake. It was the first and last campustown place we ate at as students, not to mention a bunch of times in between that. Jenna and I then walked around the quad, tried to get into the English Building to find a bathroom, but in vain since the building was locked up and then wandered off to the Union building to use the ladies' room.

We ended up at Murphy's a bit early. The crowd was a bit thin and conversation was easy to hear despite the random spurts of blaring country music from the jukebox. The first to show up was BJ, whom I introduced to Jenna. I was amused that they had both taken Mammalology together and exchanged various biology/environmental sciences course related stories. Forrest and Mendez showed up not too long after. I had not expected to see Mendez considering he was going to school at SIUC now. They almost fooled me by saying that Steve was in town, but I probably ought to have known better considering he's in med school somewhere in the Caribbean. Sadly, I knew Danielle was in Chicago looking for a job post-graduation and Kerri was out of town until Sunday (which turned out to be later than that due to car problems), so the TIS reunion was far from complete. Honk showed up, much to my surprise considering he had said in his usually brusque, but honest way, "I don't particularly like Murphy's much and I don't know any of the people you'll be hanging out with, so I may or may not come."

It was almost like I never left, the dudes made fun of me and my somewhat squished and slightly stale donuts (I had picked them up Thursday night) yet seemed to appreciate the sugar. I ran into my friend Will(Liam) from high school newspaper and talked to him briefly before returned to the group he had come in with. Then Ben showed up and I disproved my theory that he and BJ are the same person.

In all truth, I really don't need to recap a play by play. The important part is that it really was a lot like I had put my Chambana life down like a novel with a bookmark in it and then just picked it up right where I left off. I even spent the night at Honk's, sharing a cigar with him and watching Venture Brothers after our usual constitutionals. We did joke a bit about how we're becoming old people. After breakfast and a day of Scrabble, crossword puzzles, watching House and even more Venture Brothers, I packed up my little bag and went to Jenna's for even more sugar and anime and strolling about on the quad taking random pictures of interesting things.

The weekend went by so quickly that I feel like I blinked and four years of my life evaporated. Granted, not everyone who was involved in those four years were there, but I feel at least some of the most important people were there.

Part of me wishes that I could say that I learned some sort of huge lesson this weekend... or came to terms with the baggage I carried with me to Portland or resolved some unfinished history. This wasn't one of those vacations. It wasn't meant to be. It was just a chill, lazy couple of days when I got to see some people who actually missed me. Even if I wasn't on their minds every day, it's nice to have someone glad to see you when you do turn up randomly.

What's sad is this is reading more like one of my old myspace entries, but without any mentions of angsting over exes or drinking myself sick. Granted, I felt a mild pang of wanting to try to convince Honk to come out to Portland, but hell, I've been doing that for awhile now. Besides, we're not really exes if we never dated.

But yeah... growing up. Losing touch with friends despite best efforts. Figuring out what I want before I resign myself to being an office girl for the rest of my life. I'll sort that all out as it comes.
All I know is that even though I'm slowly becoming an old lady, I'm still me no matter what time zone I'm in.

I am a consumer whore.

I've always been fascinated with the psychological aspect of cosmetic changes: the whole idea that changing something about yourself on the outside could help spark a reaction to change something inside, increase confidence or what-have-you.

If I could afford it and somehow had magic hair that grew on a whim, I would get my hair cut at least once a week. Not necessarily because I'm vain -- granted, I am, but that's beside the point-- but because I like the intensity of someone paying that much attention to me for that long of a period of time without me having to do anything or try to be impressive or intellectual. I also like the idea of being a living piece of art, which also draws me to body modification. But as far as the attention thing is concerned, I spend a good deal of time being not so much invisible, but unobtrusive.

Maybe this is also the real reason why I go out to eat when I've had a bad day. I could probably cook a good deal of the types of food that I end up ordering, so maybe it really does come down to my ambivalence toward having attention paid to me. I generally like being unobtrusive, but at least a consumer exchange between me and a server or a hair stylist is in a controlled setting where there are certain types of protocol concerning interaction.

However, instead of getting my hair cut again, I decided to do something a bit different. I had tried to find the stylist at Cutting Crew on Hawthorne who had did a good job cutting my hair the way they did at Red Hair back in Champaign (next to the Evo's and a couple doors down from TIS bookstore), but apparently she works somewhere on Division and 43rd. I actually walked down there only to not see her in the window, so I ended up going back to Hawthorne and going into Bishop's. I did have the original intention of cutting my hair, but then I remembered that I was actually trying to grow it out again. So, out came an old idea I had: to color my hair a shade of grey. It was meant to be in rebellion against the "family tradition" on my father's side of going gray early in life, but spending a ridiculous amount of money over the rest of my life hiding that fact. Also, to touch on my more nerdy sense of aesthetic, some really cool anime and comic book characters have gray hair.

I spent a pleasant two hours at Bishops getting the ever-loving hell bleached out of my head and after the initial wooziness from the bleach fumes wore off, I had a beer. At first when they called my name from the sign-in sheet, I was afraid that Sonsirea (the colorist) was just looking at me as if I was crazy, but as it turns out, she had actually been working on a new formula she referred to as "blue steel." I almost made a joke about her coming up with another one called "magnum" but figured I already used enough of my dork points as it was with my anime and comic book references without pulling out a reference to Zoolander. I loved the fact that she was completely into the process of color experimentation. I imagine painters are the same way, mixing pigments trying to find the perfect combination. I also love hanging around barbershops just to look at the various pieces equipment each stylist uses. I'm especially fond of places that keep their kits in craftsman tool-style metal cabinets and toolboxes.

People would come by just to visit. One guy had the most adorable wrinkly-faced puppy, which was only 9 weeks old but good-sized and still growing. One of Sonsirea's friends came with another friend who wanted a haircut. After almost an hour, it was a bit of a shock to see myself butter-blonde, but I'm glad that didn't last long before the dye was put on. I honestly don't think the universe could handle me as a blonde.

After two bowls of bleach, two applications of toner, here are the results (don't ask me how much it cost but I believe that the end justifies the means):

I have superhero hair.

It's sort of funny since the pictures make it look like my hair hasn't changed all that much. But in the right light, my hair pretty much looks like the sky on any given day in Portland as opposed to the rather nondescript mottled black and brown it has been for the past couple of years. Maybe another reason I went with the gray was because with the random sunny days here, I still need my head to be in the clouds.

As older bro would say, peace and chicken grease.