The Past Stays Here

Tag: dailyprompt

  • Lost In Locks

    Daily writing prompt
    What activities do you lose yourself in?
    View all responses

    While after hour freedom includes hiking and ice skating, the warmth of the sun rays between the trees on my make-up free, sunscreened skin and the glide of making endless circles swishing around the ice to music pumping through arena speakers, it is the on-hour time of hair cutting that causes me to get lost in its rhythm.

    Inhaling fresh outdoor tree hugging air or crisp and cold 40 degree rink steamed breath is refreshing, yet it is actually crafting a haircut, the flow of technique, where will each strand land, and how will I frame locks around the face, are what I truly lose myself in.

    Lately I have grappled with my chosen profession as the toxins in products have increased I have debated a new career. Writing this reminds me of how I can concentrate on the cut and use mild lighteners for lifting lights before saturating with vibrant colors or remaining blonde. Continue my craft with intention. Challenge on.

  • Sun Rises at Dawn

    Sun Rises at Dawn

    Aunt, godmother, protector
    Religion aside 
    Birthday
    Day before mine

    Filled fathers shoes
    absent
    mothers sister 
    replaced 
    the presence  

    tutored math
    tennis against the wall
    coach for the softball
    I could barely throw

    pizza nights and 
    patience 
    an interest and mission,
    what’s the word we use now
    connection

    breakfast with my kids
    painted my walls
    soup on the stoop
    when the flu hit
    us all

    birthday cake
    candles we blew out together
    Virgo babies
    and that middle name
    mom gave me 
    after her sisters first
    Dawn

    patient 
    and kind to us all
    you arrive in my dreams
    guiding spirits
    warm halo
    gratitude

    “first appearance of light”
    so yeah we ride strong
  • Failure lit

    Failure lit

    System failure
    The school the big classes
    The just let her pass
    smarter than the average
    slow reader
    big imagination
    never pays attention

    day dreaming 
    lala land
    what we didn’t know then
    wanna be
    actor director
    controlling the scene

    surviving
    escaping some label
    not the dumb blonde,
    the learning disabled

    graduate anyway
    can’t pass to 101
    the dummy class
    the college course
    a boyfriend 
    a job at the record store

    “why don’t you do hair”
    moms best words to me

    graduate high color numbers
    chemist who knew
    passionate and physical
    love my career

    years later 
    dabble
    acting classes
    cross country excursion

    summer nyc
    the train ride reading 
    the journal writing 
    apply and get in

    pass to lit 101
    hurray 
    the f final class grade of yore
    english 100 I never passed 
    yet I learned, I learned!
    journalism major 
    forever explorer


  • Professional Growth

    I have a headache today. It’s the formaldehyde that seeped into my personal hair room in the salon I now work out of. The industry is filling shelves with new products that avoid the toxic label, yet when heated to a certain temp they omit formaldehyde.

    Instant headache. That’s the first reaction. Dizzy, nausea, ear pain so intense it feels as though I have an ear infection. Throbbing. Throat scratchy. But that’s not the worst part. Fuzz. My mental state slows down. I can barely comprehend what my client is saying. Barely see what I am doing. Good thing I can do a haircut by feel, I’ve been doing it so long.

    I can’t share my challenge but I warn you it’s exciting! Now in the works. At the moment I can only spread the word. I’d love a chemist to help. I use how I feel as my guide and do my research. Wow Dream Coat is said to have removed DMDM Hydantoin which turns to formaldehyde yet I still have this severe reaction to that product and to a few other smoothing products. Glad I like my frizz.

  • Peeping Toms

    Booties in soft leather. The kind that feel like butter. The heal, chrome, my armor. Half moon toe opening to the knuckle.

    I toss my battered old pair of Fly’s, torn and worn, into the city trash can lining the Theater arena. My toes flash “Big Apple Red”, peeping boldly against the grey, matte foot pad as I pound the city stairs up Madison Square Garden. Ready to rock out to Sol Invictus feeling like a “Superhero”.