hair and feathers

The other day I got a groupon email with the subject Up to 67% Off Hair or Feather Extensions in Scottsdale. I don't live anywhere near Scottsdale so I'm not sure why they started sending me those deals, but after I read it I started thinking what it would be like if there were two different intelligent species on earth--one that had hair and one that had feathers. Obviously this particular salon caters to both races but there would probably be other places that specialized in one or the other. Would the schools be segregated or integrated? What size/weight would the feather-bearing species be? Could they use the same chairs/staircases/doors/etc as we did or would there have to be separate ones? Would we both work together in the same environment? What if hair fell in love with feathers? Would they be allowed to marry?

PS: I have no idea what "feather extensions" actually are, but I assume it's a type of hair extension (maybe one that's more "feathery"...?).

Beauty (or, "my face is not Photoshopped")

It's only 5:20 pm but I feel like I just can't possibly work anymore. Which is also sad considering how little I really got done today, in the scheme of things. I decided maybe if I write some rambly post on my blog it will be a nice break and then I will feel like working again. We'll see.

During the summer I have a lot more I want to write about (note that this does not necessarily translate into ACTUALLY writing) because I commute by bike and spend a lot of time thinking about things and coming up with good ideas (when I ride the T I generally tend to read, or sleep, or listen to my ipod instead of thinking). Unfortunately, more often than not when I arrive at work/home/the movie theater I forget those ideas before writing them down or writing about them.

This morning as I was rushing around trying to get ready and get out the door at a decent hour, I was thinking about makeup. More specifically, I was thinking about justification for not applying any because I didn't want to take the time to do so. Then I got annoyed at myself for feeling like I had to justify that decision at all. Five or six years ago I was reading a coffee table book at Borders which was (from what I can remember) about women in different cultures. It was mostly pictures--as coffee table books tend to be--documenting different types of dress, hairstyles, activities, cultural traditions, etc. There were some token descriptions (the ones that most people don't read) and I remember one talking about women of the Western World and how they wear makeup constantly. It said something to the effect of that the tradition of wearing makeup has become so ingrained in the culture that most women feel naked if they leave the house without it. That bothered me enough that I made the decision right then that I would go at least one day a week without wearing makeup, just so I wouldn't start to feel that way. I was never huge on makeup anyway, so this wasn't much of a sacrifice.

This idea of women feeling like they have to wear makeup bothers me on a few levels. One, it's really kind of weird when you think about it. The book 1984 described wearing makeup as "painting [one's] face" and I think that does a good job of illustrating the ridiculousness of it. Why do we feel like we need to go around with painted faces all the time? This might be part of it:

And this:

(after photoshop / before photoshop)

I could (and maybe should) rant about how women are trying to hold themselves to an unrealistic standard based on the media's portrayal of "attractive" women, but I feel like that would just be tiring both to write and read. I will instead share a story about young, 17-year-old, freshman-in-college JM:

My first year of college I became good friends with a girl in my dorm. Because I was from California and going to college in Utah, going home for the weekend wasn't really ever an option for me. Most of my friends, however, were from Utah and would often go home over weekends, leaving me there all alone. Sometimes they would invite me along, as this friend did one time. She had an older brother that was tall and blond and (I thought at the time) rather cute, and single. When staying with her for the weekend I met him, and we flirted a bit (in retrospect I was probably super awkward since at the time I didn't have a lot of dating/flirting experience) and hit it off. We held hands a couple of times that weekend (the brother and I), and then I went back to school again. I later asked my friend what her brother thought of me and she responded "he said that you could probably wear a little bit more makeup...". Needless to say, I was kind of crushed. I thought that he had liked me--and maybe he had, who knows--but he was clearly dissatisfied with my appearance and (in my mind at least) didn't think I was attractive. I felt like it was such a shallow thing to say. I thought I was pretty cute (hey, at least I never had self-image issues, I guess) just the way I was.

That was a really sad story, so I hope you appreciate it.

I do wear makeup now, more than I did as a freshman in college, but sometimes I can't help but wonder if that experience is part of the reason why.

Anyway, I'm tired of writing about this now, so I'll just summarize:

-lots of girls wear makeup
-I think they are trying to conform to some societal ideal of beauty that's basically unattainable
-people should love each other for who they are, not what they look like
-i wear makeup, but not all the time
(-i also don't date very much--connection? :P)

Okay, that's not really a summary I guess. I will just wrap this up with a plea for people to stop placing so much emphasis on appearance. I know it's hard, it really is. But think about it: everyone gets old and unattractive (except possibly Harrison Ford who is still incredibly good looking), so why not choose the people you date based on something more interesting and less fleeing than good looks? (also, how did this turn into a dating post? argh.)

In my opinion, beauty is in the imperfections anyway.

It's not you, blog, it's me...

Today in conversation with a friend I accidentally let it slip that I have a blog. He asked me where and I basically responded with "no way am I telling you" but due to the fact that the conversation had involved me explaining the most common google search that leads to my blog, that was pretty much a losing battle. Oops. Later I started to wonder why I had responded negatively in the first place, and I realized that it's probably because I think my blog is pretty lame. I regularly go for stretches of months without posting anything, interjected by an "OMG I had cornflakes for breakfast! Best day evar!!!!!!!!!" post, or (even worse) an "I'm sorry I haven't been posting on here like I should have been, but from now on I'm going to post EVERY DAY!!!" post. Most of my other posts are random rants about things that annoy me, commentary on ways my social skills could use improvement, or things that I like or find amusing that no one else probably does. Not exactly a Blog of the Year candidate. Not that I started this blog for the fame, I suppose.

Actually, I started this particular blog right after I moved to Denmark (the first time). I named it "Jan vs. Wild" after the TV show "Man vs. Wild" that I used to enjoy, and because I felt a lot like that trying to navigate and adjust to life in a foreign country where I didn't speak the language. It reminded me of when I was camping on the bank of the John Day river in Oregon, "helping" my aunt who was working on her masters thesis in geology by studying slackwater flood deposits. She commented to me at one point during our stay that when she came out there she had planned all the work that she would get done and how efficiently she would use her time and everything. But when it came down to it and we were out in the middle of nowhere camping for weeks on end, her first priority had become survival, and any work she got done on top of that was a bonus. I felt similarly for the first couple months in Denmark. It was all about survival. Obviously it got easier as I got used to the culture and the Danes' little quirks, and made friends and such. But the blog name survived.

I also realized I have taken down a lot of the more personal posts from my first little while in Denmark, so it's pretty "safe" for other people to read at this point. Except it's still kind of lame.

Anyway, I felt bad and didn't want my blog to think I didn't love it. We've been though some hard times together. Maybe we have drifted apart a little these past few years, but it's mostly my fault. I should write more. (I probably still won't, but maybe.)

I watched the last Space Shuttle launch (ever) today and I really want to write something about it, but I don't feel like I have my thoughts together enough to say what I want to say. Maybe tomorrow (read, I'll see you in 6 months when you can find out what I had for breakfast).

I love you, blog.