I’ve tried to get the stylist to make my hair good — it never works. “Just, you know, well. I don’t know what I want,” I tell the stylist. “Feel free to experiment.” Hairstylists are artists and love to experiment, but for some reason, my approach never works.
The last time you fall in love with someone, you won’t know it will be the last. Or maybe you will. People often say things like, “I knew this was the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with!” but do they really?
We all have to get up and do stuff we don’t want to do — go to work, go to that math class we put off until the last possible semester, go to the post office, etc. — and we have all come to dread the heinous sounds of our various alarm clocks. However, there are some people who seem to rise with the birds, singing a beautiful song and praising the Sun Goddess or whatever the hell they do.
When I growl at people I dislike, no one says, “What a conceited jerk. Maybe he should work on his social skills.” No one says, “There’s nothing cool about being unfriendly or aloof.” They say, “He is a wild animal, a noble carnivore, an exalted arctic predator.”
Though a friend’s recommendation, I found the mythical entertainment-only temp agency that actually lived up to its promise of only staffing industry positions. And within a few days, I was off on my first job, filling in for a switchboard operator at a major studio I’d spend the next week referring to as Uncle Steve’s Dream Factory…