Ena - Day 46
Ena: I really hate my hair today. Sorry, I guess I should be more precise; I have been unhappy with my hair lately, but today I really hate it. I have thin, fine, straight, limp hair. My hair refuses to do anything on its own and rejects anything that anyone attempts to do to it. My hair is a bitch.
There is really nothing else to say about the matter, this is mainly just a rant. I have no solutions to this hairy situation (really sorry about that, I just couldn’t help myself), but I do have a few questions. How am I supposed to appear professional when my hair appears to be stuck in grade school? How can I expect to look stylish when my hair refuses to be styled? I often feel like my head does not match the rest of my body, though perhaps I am giving my body too much credit.
Besides my hair, I am fairly pleased with my look today. I am wearing a new pair of tights that I thought had been gobbled up by my dresser drawers and lost forever. I like them, though I have to admit that it is still quite difficult for me to wear leg-revealing clothing, and wearing “interesting” tights seems to draw more attention to an area of my body that – until recently – I have worked diligently to hide. Oh well. No pain, no gain…right?
Bina - Day 46
Bina: Namu myo horenge kyo. I repeated it to myself again and again, as my mother and grandmother had instructed me. It would calm me down.
I find that driving is the time when I am most apt to burst into tears for almost no apparent reason. I guess it’s because it’s a time when the mind can tend to wander. I have this problem wherein I remember things so vividly it is as if I am reliving. Maybe it’s all those acting classes or something, but when I recall a memory, I am there. I mean, I am feeling every single thing I felt at the time of the memory. It’s a curse, really. It is for this reason that I am going to take my first Buddhist meditation class this weekend. I need to learn how to clear out all of these negative thoughts and memories so I can start building my life again. Because I’m not sure exactly when, but it feels like I’ve stopped building anything.
So I’ve had a lot of driving time lately on account of my new hobby, Polynesian dancing. The studio I go to is amazing and world-renowned and…in Anaheim. Twice a week. 90 minutes in traffic there. 90 minutes of dancing. About 35 minutes to get home. I tell you all this because everyone seems so shocked when I tell them where it is and the effort I am making to get there. I figure if surfers can wake up at 4am to drive an hour and half to catch a sweet wave, then I can drive 90 minutes to dance my heart out. I suppose that’s what passionate people do.
It’s true. I’m loving it. When I’m in class, it’s almost like meditation because I can stop thinking about everything else and just feel powerful and seductive. Whether it be a Tahitian love song, a prayer hymn, or a sex-driven booty-shakin’ beat, it makes me feel totally HOT. But I’ve really got to work on my Fa’arapu — because when it’s done right it can look a little like this around the one-minute mark. However, when it’s not done right, it looks kinda like a toddler trying to furiously shake a turd out of his diaper.