1) Two-Parter: The 1980's, with it's monsterous Big Hair and "A-Can-A-Day" hairspray requirements, no doubt contributed to our current global warming crisis. How much did you contribute to the situation? And: In retrospect, wasn't it all really embarrassing? Fess up. I entered my freshman year of high school on the tail end of the 70's. My naturally wavy hair never wanted to succumb to my efforts of pulling a Farrah Faucett feathered look. I tried diligently. I could have held stock in Miss Breck. That was my weapon of choice. FIRM HOLD. Hours would be spent with curling iron in hand to achieve a semi-Farrah. In the world of teen-age fulfillment, that's like attempting hard-core sex with semi-wood. Just sayin'. I do recall being flirted with by a boy who'd hold my attentions for several years. While strutting about in my pink silk shirt and grey overalls (shut!up!), he told me he loved watching me walk because my hair was so bouncy. Farrah achievement or not, I was smitten with the gangly goof. But I digress.
My big hair days didn't come until after graduating high school. I maintained shoulder length hair throughout those years. A hair stylist introduced me to the magic of hair gel. Purchasing the salon products were not in my budget. Dippity Do offered a remedy. A big jar of yellow goo at the low, low price of under $2.00 . I just had to be mindful not to overuse it. White, crusty flakes were far from appealing. Plus, it rendered my hair motionless. No longer impressing the boy who loved my bouncy hair. He'd gone off to college anyway. No contribution to decreasing the ozone layer as I embarked on the mid-80's.
Aussie hair products originally came in pump spray bottles. The scent far surpassed anything I'd ever whiffed. Gel was applied first. Dry. Curl or spike. I should mention I lobbed off my hair and went uber short. I wanted to be spunky and punky without committing to the punk way of life. I have no photographic evidence.
That look was short lived as I realized short didn't suit my style. I grew out my hair again and sported layers. BIG hair was finally achieved. I did not, mind you, don the bangs that stuck straight up or put out a nuzzling boy's eyeball. My hair, although slightly crunchy, did not have a warrant out for its arrest as dangerous or suspect for severe laceration.
If memory serves me, Aussie product line was environmentally friendly. Therefore, with all good conscience, I feel I had nothing to do with Global Warming. I have no fear of Leo and Al showing up to put me on the most wanted list.
Embarrassing? Nope. Not at the time. My hair was mild compared to most. I had ranch style hair when I consider many girls had Sears Tower 'dos.
2) You have three different ways of doing things. What are they?
My way; the prescribed way; an apathetic approach
My way is, at first glance, typically flying by the seat of my pants. Sometimes that involves forethought and or calling upon previous similar circumstances and utilization of the "hindsight is 20/10" school of thought. My Way can also require consideration to the teachings of my parents. My way isn't always the right way, but it works for me. In this single parenthood way of life, I find that my way allows me to tweak whatever my decisions may have been prior. I question each and every decision I make, but thus far it has served me well. For crying out loud, have I told you about my son lately? My way is definitely the best way.
The Prescribed Way is what I do at work. It only works because, in being part of the herd, deviances rarely go unnoticed. Criticism is at its peak when one falls away from the prescribed way. I do not like being in the herd. I'll let you in on a little secret: I often step off the main line and invoke some of my way. I get a fresh perspective and it helps me when I start to feel the crush of the herd on my heels. It's a risk I'm willing to take in order to maintain my sanity.
The Apathetic Approach is sadly the way of many. That includes yours truly. I know, I know. Change won't occur until you're willing to be the change. I get it. However, stagnation leads to this. It's a catch-22, really. The apathetic approach to doing things leads to stagnation. It's also embodied in my way. It's not an innate facet. I've learned that it's best to keep a smaller plate. That way, when your plate is full, you're not overwhelmed. I do not subscribe to the idea that a platter is required. In changing my views of my healthful lifestyle, I use a smaller plate. So, in the grand scheme of life, shouldn't that same philosophy apply? I think so.
The bottom line is that no matter what approach I take to handle things, it's always MY WAY. Another label is simply given in order to make other's believe it's their way.
3) Two-Parter, Part II: Name the first three people that come to mind when you read this you would love to state something to, but can't. Why can't you? (Withhold the names to protect the innocent; reveal them if'n you just don't care.) This one has me seriously scratching my head. It's not the Dippity Do residue, either. I'd like to proudly declare that I just don't give a damn what other people think; yet, that isn't wholly true. I do. Why else would I give the option to leave comments on my writing?
I do want to say that pomposity pisses me off. Self-righteous nit-wits have no place in my little corner of the world. You know the guy. You ask a simple question and he starts spewing shit from a textbook. I'm all about learning from others. But do not lecture me with your 10 dollar words. People like that take delight in knowing that the vast majority have no fucking clue what they are laying down. In that, they feel they maintain superiority. But alas, in my most humble world, they are not of superior intellect but delusions of grandeur. Hell, I may very well come across like one of these people. But I possess the magic butt hole.
4) Rock ... Or Roll? Elaborate ... Either or? Musically I want both. I'm American and greedy like that.
As for being between a rock and a hard place, give me the rock. A rock is movable with enough effort and ingenuity depending on the size of said rock. Simon and Garfunkle declared they were a rock; an island. Without knowing it, a rock and an island do change. It's an ongoing process.
I like to roll. Rolling down a hill seemed like a grand idea as a kid. It's funny how rolling was a lot easier before sprouting hips and chesticular protuberances.
I like rolls. Rolls are tasty and if they are whole grain wheat, I will eat them.
Without rolling we never would have heard Tina wail so excellently about rolling on the river -- and we'd undoubtedly be living without the vision of her strutting about on those divine gams.
5) You've just been asked: "Why can't you?" What's your answer? "Because I said so."
Don't forget the rules....
You have to link back to the original post (http://immoralmatriarch.com/questionsagain) and my post (http://frolickry.blogspot.com/2009/01/ashton-bourne-interrogation.html) and include the following in your post:
Want to be part of it? Follow these instructions:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
A Rupian Interview
There's a craze sweeping the blog nation. At least it's being Swiffered in my little corner of the world. And let's face it, with social networking, my corner is vastly increasing. I just hope I haven't painted myself into my own little corner with this one. Dearest Ruprecht has challenged me greatly. His interview conducted by Ashton Daigle surpasses anything I could dream of myself. Then again, I am not Rupe nor Ashton. I'm simply delighted to be in company with such brilliant yet warped minds. Warped in those instances is a good thing. This is my blog; my Rupian interview. I'm left to my own devices. Rupe instructed me that he wanted no creative juices tapped. He wants honesty. So, without further hesitation or contemplation, I give you my answers. Raw. Off the cuff. I'm just letting it roll forth from my skull. Editing be damned. By the way, Imogen Heap chimes in as I write this. iPod earbuds are crammed in my earholes.