My heart palpitates as the excitement arises within me when I hear someone miss use “Jack of all trades, master of none”. As if we are here on this planet for upto and possibly exceeding 100 years, yet we are to concentrate on one thing that entire time. How boring. If thats what you like, please do you, yet upon learning the full proverb, “A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one”, I finally feel my fit on this world. To each their own.
Tag: dailyprompt
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Lost In Locks
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.
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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
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.
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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”.
Mer Prose 