I need to get back to doing things that make me happy. I’m not on this planet to live for other people, and sometimes things aren’t always going to go the way the rest of the world wants.

I mean, I’m not going to go out and start robbing banks or anything, but I’m going to stop letting other people dictate what I’m feeling at any given time. I’ve got this habit of being too willing to bend over backwards for the sake of other people, but combine that with a wicked sense of justice and an abnormally short fuse for things that are just purely stupid and you’ve got someone who gets caught in the middle trying to fix everyone else’s problems until she can’t see a good way out for anyone, least of all herself, and then just goes off on all involved parties.

And frankly, I’m tired of being everyone else’s host-body right now. So here’s my new resolution.
People are not allowed to use me as an intermediary.
People are not allowed to tell me the same sob story more than twice.
People are not allowed to use things that are otherwise out of humanity’s control as a way of attempting to control me.
People are not allowed to leave emotions unvoiced and expect me to know what’s going on OR have any desire to fix it/give a damn.
People are not allowed to use material possessions as a source of power, emotionally or mentally.
People are not allowed to dredge up past events simply to pick fights.
True friends do not try to one-up the others, whether’s it’s for status, money, love, recognition, egomania or user tendencies.

So says the Teka. End transmission.

(And before any of y’all start getting all up in my grill about “I didn’t do that!” or “I didn’t mean it!” or any of that, I’m not targeting one or more person/groups of people specifically. I’m targeting where I see weaknesses in my ability to deal with life situations. Step off, it’s not all about you In the words of the immortal Eleanor Roosevelt: “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” This is my list to myself of ways to refuse consent. )

I am so VERY TIRED of having to fight the universe to look pretty. It took two days and an hour-long round trip to a different mall to find a suit, and then it took an hour of frustration and continued disgruntlement to find someone to clean up my hair… and for $30, if I had been able to take my eyes out and set them to the side so I could look at the back of my head, I’d have been able to do just as well, if not better.


I mean, curly haired truth. Most stylists have no idea what to do with curly hair unless they’ve been specially trained to deal with it. The lady that usually does mine cuts curl by curl, so that she can see how everything is falling, and she does it dry, so there’s no worry about shrinkage.


The first thing this stylist wanted to do? Wet me down. I managed to talk her out of that, but she still brushed all of my hair out, and then insisted on cutting it in all straight lines. If you cut curly hair like that, well, it’s just never going to be quite right.


I don’t understand WHY after living in this hair for 23 years, stylists want to discount what I can tell them about cutting it the best way possible. It’s not like I’m pulling it out of my ass… I WATCH how the stylist I like does it.


Between being a pants size that doesn’t exist and having a torso too short for normal jackets, I feel like the least I can ask is the ability to find a hairstylist that doesn’t butcher me. Even “ethnic” salons are out there in most good-sized cities, clearly marked, or connected within the community, but curly stylists are so hit or miss it’s ridiculous. It’s not like curls are rare, so why do I feel like such a minority?


And how come people never seem to believe that I LIKE my hair like this? Twice now, I’ve had women from the hair straightener kiosks in malls come at me and be like “Think how pretty your hair could be if we straightened it!”

Today, I finally just snapped at the goddamned saleswoman and asked her why she thought I was wearing my hair curly if I didn’t like it like that, before ripping into her about how she was just promoting the negative body image of any female who falls even remotely outside the status quo of what all the stupid beauty magazines want us to look like.
I think she might have actually gotten it, as she left me alone when I came the other way back down the mall-concourse.

And hooray to Pennsyltucky for not totally sucking for once. Maybe now the Palin Curse will fall off the Bears.