Big-Stupid-Head-Ism
I wrote this a few days ago, but was too mad to post it, so I just put up a few songs instead. I needed to re-read it first. I re-wrote the end for fear of it giving away too much, or sounding like an ass. Actually, I think you can tell where I switch, because I all of a sudden stop swearing and sound a lot calmer. But rather than edit my words, I let my initial rage stay. There is passion in spontaneity. So, here it is, in all its ranty goodness...
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Okay… so something’s been on my chest and I need to get it off… I have to write about it. But, I presage: I can’t go into too much detail at this point. There are a vast number of people who read this blog, and not all of them know all of what’s going on in my life right now. Due to that, I will be a tad elusive tonight…
I was an asshole!
There were a few years in my life where I was driven… neh; ruled… by success and money. I blamed it on growing up poor, but now I’ve decided to own it and just admit that I was a fuck.
Christmas was always very special to my mom. She saved all year to provide us with a great abundance of prezzies, and one year, my father decided to take all the money and blow it in one night of drinking (you see, he didn’t care as much for us as she did). So that year, the only present I received from ‘Santa Claus’ was a model airplane; a present I realized was provided by one of those charities that help poor people. OMG! This means I am a poor person. This is the point in my life when I realized there was a difference in class in this world. Some were ‘better’ than others. I was five years old.
I made a promise to myself, right there, that no one would ever look at me as ‘A Poor Person” again. EVER. I did everything in my power; not to make people think I was rich, but rather, not let them know I was poor.
When I became a hairstylist, my career took off like a shot. I was immediately successful and, two years out of hair school, was opening my own salon. Within a year I was making about a hundred thousand dollars a year. By all standards, I was rich! I had made it.
So off I went on a binge of decadent vacations, lavish dinners, classes, shopping sprees, Kenneth Cole, Prada, Burberry, great dishes, pretty furniture, and some pretty fabulous gifts for my friends and family. I never once looked down on other people if they could not afford what I could, but I was pretty fucking proud of myself for being able to. And I loved that other people knew that I could afford to.
I would defend my purchases by saying “Well, I have no children. No Car payments and Auto insurance. No Cable Bill. My condo has a gym so I don’t have to pay for a membership. I walk to work. I don’t do drugs. Virtually no expenses, and large income! So what if I pay $500 for a shirt?”
I’ll tell you so what.
North American culture is so wrapped up in having to have the hottest labels and the coolest gadgets. We have to vacation at the newest resort. We need the latest trend. My sheets need to have the highest thread count and can only come from Egyptian cotton!
I was an asshole!
There were a few years in my life where I was driven… neh; ruled… by success and money. I blamed it on growing up poor, but now I’ve decided to own it and just admit that I was a fuck.
Christmas was always very special to my mom. She saved all year to provide us with a great abundance of prezzies, and one year, my father decided to take all the money and blow it in one night of drinking (you see, he didn’t care as much for us as she did). So that year, the only present I received from ‘Santa Claus’ was a model airplane; a present I realized was provided by one of those charities that help poor people. OMG! This means I am a poor person. This is the point in my life when I realized there was a difference in class in this world. Some were ‘better’ than others. I was five years old.
I made a promise to myself, right there, that no one would ever look at me as ‘A Poor Person” again. EVER. I did everything in my power; not to make people think I was rich, but rather, not let them know I was poor.
When I became a hairstylist, my career took off like a shot. I was immediately successful and, two years out of hair school, was opening my own salon. Within a year I was making about a hundred thousand dollars a year. By all standards, I was rich! I had made it.
So off I went on a binge of decadent vacations, lavish dinners, classes, shopping sprees, Kenneth Cole, Prada, Burberry, great dishes, pretty furniture, and some pretty fabulous gifts for my friends and family. I never once looked down on other people if they could not afford what I could, but I was pretty fucking proud of myself for being able to. And I loved that other people knew that I could afford to.I would defend my purchases by saying “Well, I have no children. No Car payments and Auto insurance. No Cable Bill. My condo has a gym so I don’t have to pay for a membership. I walk to work. I don’t do drugs. Virtually no expenses, and large income! So what if I pay $500 for a shirt?”
I’ll tell you so what.
North American culture is so wrapped up in having to have the hottest labels and the coolest gadgets. We have to vacation at the newest resort. We need the latest trend. My sheets need to have the highest thread count and can only come from Egyptian cotton!
It’s all shit! And it’s shit like this that is killing our planet and humanity.
The Boyfriend made a comment on his blog that dinosaurs lived on the planet for millions of years in a virtual paradise, yet humans have had a go for about 4 500 years and we’ve ruined it. We have holes in our ozone (Y’ know. That little, protective barrier, that keeps the sun from broiling us? Just thought I’d remind you, in case you forgot.) We have famine and drought and wars and hatred. We also have the power to do something about it. Shit! There’s one problem…
Humankind is far too fucking selfish to do anything about it!
Now, I’m not saying that I’m not to blame either. I’m not a saint or a martyr. I bought The Boyfriend a Christmas gift from Tiffany & Co., and accepted one from him. I still wear my Prada bag. I buy Madonna Albums. I shop at Whole Foods. I drink the occasional Starbucks. I still buy into all of the commercialism and material shit that I claim to detest.
There-in lies my problem. I want to make a difference in this world, but I’m in an industry that forces one to expand their ego and exploit the vanity and insecurity of countless people. Fun! Everyday, I deal with one rich person or another that tells me how their last trip to St. Barts (the 4th this year) was not a great as last months. Or how they went to said restaurant last night and it was a steal at $400 for two.
I feel like I’m constantly surrounded by ego, vanity, materialism, commercialism, people-being-big-stupid-head-ism. All the ism’s! And I can still feel their claws trying to pull me back into clutches. And I just want to scream. I want to get out of it, but unfortunately I like what I do! I’m in a Catch 22. I love cutting hair, but I fucking hate the hairstyling industry… the whole fashion industry actually. So what can I do?
I think this is why I volunteer. I think this helps keep me grounded. I just took a new volunteer position today, and will find out more on Thursday morning about it. At this point, all I know is that I will be assigned clients (mostly elderly people) and I just go and pay friendly visits to them. I’ll bring cards, take them out to movies, go to the zoo, bake cookies, or escort them to appointments. Whatever; just be a friend, really. This is what I need. This is what I need. This is what I want!
It’s just too bad the sectors that I want to be in are all volunteer, and the job that pays my rent is the one that makes me dizzy. In this wonderful society of ours, being a good guy (girl) just doesn’t pay the bills.
And so are the days of our lives.
The Boyfriend made a comment on his blog that dinosaurs lived on the planet for millions of years in a virtual paradise, yet humans have had a go for about 4 500 years and we’ve ruined it. We have holes in our ozone (Y’ know. That little, protective barrier, that keeps the sun from broiling us? Just thought I’d remind you, in case you forgot.) We have famine and drought and wars and hatred. We also have the power to do something about it. Shit! There’s one problem…
Humankind is far too fucking selfish to do anything about it!
Now, I’m not saying that I’m not to blame either. I’m not a saint or a martyr. I bought The Boyfriend a Christmas gift from Tiffany & Co., and accepted one from him. I still wear my Prada bag. I buy Madonna Albums. I shop at Whole Foods. I drink the occasional Starbucks. I still buy into all of the commercialism and material shit that I claim to detest.
There-in lies my problem. I want to make a difference in this world, but I’m in an industry that forces one to expand their ego and exploit the vanity and insecurity of countless people. Fun! Everyday, I deal with one rich person or another that tells me how their last trip to St. Barts (the 4th this year) was not a great as last months. Or how they went to said restaurant last night and it was a steal at $400 for two.
I feel like I’m constantly surrounded by ego, vanity, materialism, commercialism, people-being-big-stupid-head-ism. All the ism’s! And I can still feel their claws trying to pull me back into clutches. And I just want to scream. I want to get out of it, but unfortunately I like what I do! I’m in a Catch 22. I love cutting hair, but I fucking hate the hairstyling industry… the whole fashion industry actually. So what can I do?
I think this is why I volunteer. I think this helps keep me grounded. I just took a new volunteer position today, and will find out more on Thursday morning about it. At this point, all I know is that I will be assigned clients (mostly elderly people) and I just go and pay friendly visits to them. I’ll bring cards, take them out to movies, go to the zoo, bake cookies, or escort them to appointments. Whatever; just be a friend, really. This is what I need. This is what I need. This is what I want!
It’s just too bad the sectors that I want to be in are all volunteer, and the job that pays my rent is the one that makes me dizzy. In this wonderful society of ours, being a good guy (girl) just doesn’t pay the bills.
And so are the days of our lives.
posted by Lance Morrison @ 2:15 AM
9 Comments:
Becasue a lot of what bothers me about the industry would just follow me:
- To be sucsessful, one has t oconstantly talk about themself.
- I have to constantly tell my clients that hair is the most important thing in the world.
- I have to listen to clients that think hair is the most important thing in the world.
It's the industry in general, not just yorkville. It happens in Yellowknife, it happens in Tibet, it happens in Belair.
I hate listening to the small fraction of my clients that constantly talk about such small things when there are so many other big issues in the world: Children starving, icecaps melting, animals going extict, stupid wars. And all the time, these people can't think past the fact that they need a new leave-in conditioner.
....also, it's not all my clients either, just a few. But they are in often and I just want to slap myself. Most of my clients are super. Remember, the post was written when I was in 'a mood'.
But you are making a difference. You were honest, you wrote it down, you volunteered.
Don't be so hard on yourself. I once read about a businessman who happened to be in an airport terminal at the same time as Mother Theresa, and even though this man thought he was an overall good and generous person, he was tearfully brought to his knees just looking at Mother Theresa and knowing that she had dedicated her entire life to changing the world. He felt guilty.
At that point Mother Theresa walked over to him, picked him up and said, "It's okay. God knows you're trying your best."
Not to preach... but whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed, that story pops into my head.
And as for always telling your clients that hair is the most important thing in the world... chillax :) Not ALL of your clients buy into that shit because they are smarter than that. And if they do buy into it, they're just bimbos to begin with.
None of us are saving the world...some sell pillows, some sell insurance, some do nails and facials. Granted some of us are helping the world - working for the Pope even! - and you are now volunteering. There is nothing wrong with being good at something and tooting your horn about it. As long as the tooting (hee hee) is done in moderation. I for example am going to be a great yoga instructor but you don't hear me going on and on about what a great instructor I shall be. For if I did, but I don't, nay won't, go on and on about my yogic abilities, it would become most trying for those around me. So no, no I will go on about it. No.
Your other fat girl is right: unless you're going to be Mother Teresa and give up all you've got to live in the slums of Calcutta, you've got to find balance and meaning in what you are doing. I know you get a lot of pleasure out of volunteering and that's so valuable, to you and to the people that you help, but there's also a lot of value in the work that you do. It's not nothing to make people look good, to help them feel good about themselves, to offer them perhaps the only hour in the month when they are the sole focus of someone's positive attention and the only thing they need to worry about is whether they need a new leave-in conditioner. People leave your chair looking good, feeling good about themselves, feeling rested and relaxed and positive and then they carry that energy out into the world with them. I'm not telling you not to pursue your passion of changing the world, I'm just pointing out that really, you're already doing that, one beautiful haircut at a time!
I'd even go so far as to say that you would be doing the world a DISservice by not cutiing/styling hair anymore. People have talents and they should be used to the best of their abilities ... God gave you the talents for a reason and the Girl doesn't hand them out at random you know.
I will always always always cut hair. I was really just ranting about the fashion industry and North American culture, in general, and it's part in ruining the world.
We're so focused on getting the best labels and our outer apprearance, that we forget to recylce and help others.
I've spent the past 8 years, not only helping people feel good about themselves, but also fanning this fire, and I was just tired of it, is all.
I feel like I need to make retrobution, and that's what I'm working on now.
Sorry, Mr. Mitchell; I will save the world. At least one part of it; in some small way. Call me Mr. Jolie!
hey pants,
glad to hear you have found more meaning in life. though i did benefit from the "I'm going to prove i'm rich" lifestyle. but money isn't all it's cracked up to be. i'm proud of the volunteer job. i'll let the big guy know you are doing your part. luv very much pizza princess
The Big Guy knows, I think. I hear he watches us; him being hte all knowing and all seeing and all that.
Thanks babe. Tell him I say 'Hi', anyway.
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