Looking from behind a Chair...

2008-05-02T00:15:00.000-07:00

I always chase the impossible. The unattainable.
impossible or just out of reach, I somehow can't resist.

And strangely, thats one of the things I love most about myself. Even tho sometimes it really sucks.

god save the gays

2008-02-24T23:05:00.000-08:00

Kudos to the producer of No Country For Old Men for thanking his partner and calling him "honey" during his acceptance speech.

This is kind of honesty and openness we need to see from the gay glitterati and their ilk. Throw open the closet doors my friends, is nicer on this side.

i love pretty things

2008-02-11T00:03:00.000-08:00

I detest awards shows.... but goddamn, what I wouldn't give for one of those Grammy or Oscar gift bags.... jesus.

Buying cigarettes at Entropy

2008-02-09T22:16:00.000-08:00

Cashmere Mafia got me thinking....
Yes, I know how wrong that sentence is. The fact still remains however, despite my questionable taste in television programming may be, that it did.

Work Vs. Love

I want love. I'm not afraid to say it. In a city full of plastic douche bags and waxed and waned clones... I want to find someone to grow old with, I want a partner, picket fence, two dogs, a non legally recognized commitment ceremony... but I want all that PLUS a full successful career. And this is not an industry that allows for easy relationships.

Where is that balance? Apparently I am unable to find it. Though maybe it’s not something to find, maybe that balance is something that happens between the right two people. Or maybe all systems tend to move towards maximum entropy, barring the input of external energy. Maybe listening to Tom Waits late at night while chain smoking and contemplating my own existence isn't the best use of my time.

Love is so much blustering wind, and sound, and fury..... and requires effort, care, dedication, patience, understanding, compromise..... Much like being a hair dresser. Dedicating the better part of your life to people who, when it really boils down to it, don't appreciate you as much as they should. Or at least don't appreciate just how hard it is to do what we do (yes, this is an incredibly skilled trade and no one is perfect every day of their life).

"My layers are too short."
"Do you think I should get bangs?"
"I don't want to lose too much length, but...."
"I want more volume."
"Are these sides even?"
"My hair is too brassy."
"My hair is too ash."
"I'm not blonde enough."
"I'm too blonde."

It is hard enough to maintain relationships with clients and I only see them once a month at most usually.
Add on to this the fact that half the time I feel like a slightly less neurotic Bridget Jones, and things really get difficult.

In an increasingly isolating world, where even the comfort of sifting through old vinyl and plastic has been reduced to buying a song from iTunes, connection seems to get lost in the muddle. All those sweet comforts of our youth, or at least mine, have been slowly moved into this digital world where humanity is tenuous at best.

So work, for me, is so much more than what I do for a living. It is where I connect, where I find my balance, where I can always find a shoulder to lean on or someone who cares enough about me to at least listen. It’s not what I do, it’s who I am. Its where my world begins. And usually ends.

2008-01-28T20:04:00.000-08:00

Can I please stop getting super dreamy clients of indeterminate sexual preference?

Not that I think we should all have color coded squares on our foreheads to denote which bits we like best, but really.... this is some sort of sick joke the universe is playing.
So far that is four clients in the past 2 weeks who were handsome, smart, intelligent, funny.... Not that I stand behind the chair thinking "Can I date this one?" during all my men's haircuts.

No.

That would be creepy.

But I am a 30 year old single gay man with the desire to eventually settle down. So I shouldnt be surprised when god or the universe or whatever is just dangling some sort of proverbial carrot in front of me.
Not that I'm looking to jump into marriage or even a serious relationship right now, being newly divorced and all.... but hey a cute guy asking me out to dinner would be nice. And I'm not doing the whole online dating thing again, that's a Greek tragedy waiting to happen.

Nor am I going to find someone at a bar (we've all tried it and it doesn't work past the 1st, or second if you're lucky, orgasm).... especially not some tired trance and diva house blasting gay club filled with cut off T-s, sweaty queers sporting pencil thin eyebrows, and enough crystal meth to take down Lindsay Lohan.
So we move on to straight, or as I prefer to call them, mixed bars. Well, when I go out its with the folks from work, because honestly.... nobody knows how to party like a stylist. However, hairdressers are a very insular bunch. We go out in packs, stick to ourselves, and think that every other salon besides ours is inferior, and we can't help but judge the fashion and coiffage of every person we meet, if only quietly on the inside. So we often tend to stick within the confines of other hairdressers or people in the fashion world. You can always tell when the cool kids from a salon walk into a bar.... 5-10 people, all gay female or metro, with impeccably styled hair, often times asymmetric cuts with 300 varying lengths of hair and a whole palette of tastefully (or not so) placed colors springing out from all sides (they're FASHION haircuts and we think they're pretty so don't make fun of us), a flurry of designer or boutique clothing, and the mad dash for the martini glass. We know how to make an entrance.

I digress. I blame the beer.
Is my dating pool whittled down to a bunch of xenophobic hair hoppers and their friends? Can the dating pool expand to include the poor innocents who place themselves in our chairs everyday? Do I need some sort of relationship therapy?

If one of aforementioned clients would simply ask me out, this whole train of thought would be moot, but in the meantime......

2008-01-25T12:52:00.000-08:00

I know I was hungover and perhaps slightly more glib, or less edited, than normal and I put on the whole razzle dazzle 'em show all day. Whether I was as amusing as I thought I was or whether my delerious narcissism got the best of me I am unsure. Needless to say, I won't break my "don't get hammered on worknights" rule for quite a while.

Anyways, he was cute in that sort of Elvis Costello turned Hollywood elite frat boy in deck shoes and board shorts kind of way. I'm boy crazy in general from time to time anyways, but yeah, this one was just fucking adorable.
And perhaps there is some sort of pretty woman coum cosmetologist thing going on. Is he gay? Is he straight? Will he hate his haircut and never come back? These things run through my head more often than I'd like to admit.

He told me to write a blog and it seemed like an idea worth entertaining, so here I am.

I see a lot of different people every day, and I get a lot of different views on what is going on in this world. A director, then a writer, a housewife, a CEO, a recovering alcoholic, a celebrity who keeps running to the restroom every 15 minutes to "blow her nose." Everyone is anonymous and secrets that fall on my ears are only repeated to a few select best friends with an ear for stoned or drunken ramblings. Details or no, it leaves one, at least this one, with a rather strange picture of the world.

He was right. I've always had my own unique (or odd) perspective, and this career only helps further confuse and sometimes evolve.
So despite my hatred of blogs and those who love them, here I am being narcissistic enough to think the things that fall out of my mouth matter.
All I can say is I did it for a boy. It's not my fault.

Goddamn I was cute.....

2008-01-25T12:32:00.000-08:00