Graduation Speakers and the Homestretch

This was my last official week of cosmetology school. Ironically enough, i did very little hair. Tuesday was our finals, written and practical (i passed with a 90% average, thank you very much) and Wednesday was our graduation. Wed I did Abena's hair, bleached the tips and toned it with a bright copper orange so when she does her little mini banana peel flips (check out a black hair mag if you dont know what i mean) the ends are orange. She was such an armchair stylist the whole time, so hilarious, telling me I was doing every thing wrong, putting on too much, then not enough, that I was going to make her hair fall out. I said Id be really sad if her hair fell out, she said "Yeah, youd be saddend to a pulp." It looked great though, her skin has a lot of rich orangy tones, a very warm complexion. THe rest of wed we didnt do jack squat. We just all spent the day together, went and ate falafel at the "medeterranean" restaurant up the street (medeterranean must be a user friendly word for arab, those guys are as arab as the house of sa'ud.) It was fun. We never all just get to chill together. We reminisced about how far weve come. how few of us are left, and how punishing first quarter was with us all in the back classroom. Nicola is the only one of us who doesnt have any hours to make up, so we will all be here a little longer but most of us will be in different Salons a lot of the time.
Thursday I did my perm makeup test from last quarter. I did a classic spiral wrap on carrie's hair. I passed. It looked fine. big waves. who cares, i passed, her hair didnt fall out. It did however smell strongly of eggs until she febrezed it. good grief, i hate perms. it may be my last. The graduation was predictably hilarious. We went Tuesday we all had to go to SVI and do a graduation rehearsal which was such a dumb waste of time. We all lined up in the hallways of SVI with a sign saying our department and filed into the room where we sat down and mock received our diplomas then got a little ticket which allowed us access to the pizza party (Gather 'round the Good stuff? How is that for a slogan? I think its pizza hut. And its so bland and so gross) downstairs. I dont think you really have to rehearse walking in a line and sitting in a chair then standing up, walking in a circle and sitting down in the same chair. Upshot? Graduation pictures baby!! I did it up, scaring my class and possibly others who may have thought that I always look like that. Huge Utah claw bangs with the rounded side outcroppings. Classic 80's makeup. WHat i didnt know but made the whole picture even more fantastically anachronistic is that they take your picture on a WHITE background, sitting next to a WHITE pillar, holding your corny diploma holder which says seattle vocational institute. life is so rich. I made the guy take a whole bunch of shots but decided to just keep one since you always like one more than the other anyway and wish you had more of that other one than this one...might as well head that off at the pass. Tried to take one winking, but kept looking like I had a terrible palsy.
SO the actual graduation was wed night. My long suffering family ( Mom,Ariel, Carrie & Drew and Parker, who managed to sit quietly the whole time) were there early to get a seat in the gym before it packed out. Which didnt happen. Sparsely attended. We all filed in to that traditional graduation song which sounds like music from the third reich soundtrack. THen we were treated to the first of far too many numbers by the SCCC jazz band. Now, the band itself was lackluster. But it could have been masked by some amazing singing. Unfortunately, they chose to front the band a charmless caucasian woman who sounded like an american idol reject and some asian woman who im sure they picked up at a vietnamese karaoke night at Moonlight Cafe. Her accent was strong (abena referred to it as Englaos), but her voice wasnt. It was warbly, and ill suited to the R&B classics they had chosen. Now, why you would put two women of non african ancestry, neither of whom were even performance ready outside of their music class final, in front of a large crowd of black women AND their families who make up the bulk of the reigons baptist and AME churches, is a complete mystery to me. It was so embarrasing. I was sitting between Abena and this girl from the medical assisting program named lisa and in front and behind me were two other sisters from the office professional program. All around me were comments like "girl you better go up there and take that mic!" "Are you for real?" "No they didnt!" and just simply "uhm uhm uhm." I reiterate, so embarrasing.The closing number was the icing on the cake. The SVI theme song. It was a reworded version of the R Kelly song "I believe I can fly," Changed to "I believe in SVI."
"I believe I'll make more, see me walking through that corporate door."
Really, thats what it was. The lyrics were printed in the back of the program so myself and all the women sitting around me started singing along loudly to cover up the Englaos version. Ms V later told me that she sang it last year. I was blown away. We had two student speakers, one woman from the dental hygenist program I think , and a man from the multiple trades program. The man was tall, light skinned and wore reflective shades the whole time. He spoke loudly and with feeling about his love for SVI and the instructors there and how we all need to represent SVI wherever we go in our careers. The girl was short, plump, darkskinned and spoke tearfully about her triumphs and testified (complete with pentecostal dance interlude) about the transformative power of education and, of course, the lord jesus christ. I couldnt tell you a damn thing the emcee said because she was the worst public speaker Ive ever heard. no diction, no intonation and no concept of how to speak into a mic. this is the 15th year she has hosted the graduation. nuff sed. Finally, and most annoying, the featured speaker was kenneth alhadeff. Wealthy Sephardic jew, and member of one of Seattle's most beneficent philanthropic Hebraic families. Through the Kenneth and Marlene Alhadeff fund, he donates money to SVI for special stuff like thanksgiving and christmas baskets and food for graduations and such things. Oh, the costco muffins! Those are an Alhadeff sponsored treat. Dont get me wrong, they do a tremendous amount for seattle communities. and they dont have to, its great. But as far as listening to his sermon style, purposefully inspirational speech on what "we've" over come to get this far, and how for many of "us" this is the culmination of our academic lives, how "we" had children early and fought with drugs and alcohol, "we" (he kept using we and us, so condescending! was he a teen parent?!?!) had to take the bus to school, and all manner of injustices that he assumed that WE as the predominantly "minority" based SVI student body had had to do to get this far. Maybe he had some trials and tribulations in his life that I dont know about, they didnt tell us anything about him or his work save that he siphons off some cash our way every now and again. He was an empassioned speaker, I'll give him that. But there is nothing inspirational or motivational, in and of itself, about a speaker. What inspires is that person's life, their experiences, their inspiration and personal gains and losses. Being born with a silver spoon in ones mouth inspires little other than envy and disdain. Is Ted Kennedy inspirational? Paris Hilton? Portia Di Rossi? No, they're just wealthy. Money can motivate, mind you, but its the story and the work and the human interest behind the money that does the real inspiring. For example, my dad forwarded me an incredible speech for the same sort of occasion (but at a much more spendy and well reputed school Im sure) by Steve Jobs, the founder of Macintosh. Now he too has more money than god, and everyone knows it, but thats not the point. He made the money and in a way that everyone can relate to. Through challenges, self doubt, a path less travelled, and with real intelligence and perseverance. He didnt read a novella about the trials of innercity life and then come in and try to identify with his audience. You dont have to be just like someone, or even know exactly who they are or what theyve gone through to inspire them, in fact what is most moving is the universalities of human evolution among very disparate experiences. Anyway. Then it was over, and we went over to gabe's house for some Trader Joes apps and vino. it was a lovely evening.
Friday we cleaned the school and got out early. I had to go do Trey's hair which he had oh-so-helpfully had his girlfriend take out of the months old braids he had in and shampoo. Without combing it out first. Big mistake, Huge. Then he walked her to her car and stood in the sun letting it dry. It was huge matted locks in the span of ten minutes. I coulda killed him. It took me an hour to comb them out. I was there from 3:30 to 8 but his braids looked damn good. Ive gotten a lot better. A lot tighter too, he had to put a phone call on hold to ask if I had some problem with him that I was taking out on his scalp. Hilarious. I think it was after braiding that guys hair that was really short that I realized my tension in the gripping hand was slack and that if i kept up the grip the braid looked better and more even, which makes for more ouch in the process. Sorry homeslice, its the price we pay for beauty. Even Men.
Next week i have tues and weds off and then back in on thu and fri to start knockin out those makeup hours. I have to institute some real discipline if I want to be done by the second week of July, which I do. Now I dont get marked down if Im not there on time, its just me getting me threre, which considering the impoverished state of my life at this point will be trying. I havent excercised outside of dance for MONTHS, my car looks like a transient has been taking refuge in the backseat, I havent done laundry in a virtual month of sundays, and ive been eating horribly, like the microwave outmoded the stove. I havent cooked at home since I made dinner for Josh Rosenstein, the only really jewish person ive ever tried to date. We got along great and couldnt stand each other. Darn you internalized self hatred! Itll sabotage you everytime.
That was before passover, probably in early april. Last week I was in such a rush with nothing for lunch that I actually ate some pretzels that had fallen on the floor of my car!! Not so bad you say? WRONG! At this point youd be better off eating an elephant ear that you dropped walking past the 4H barn at the Puyallup fair. I have GOT to get myself together. Starting now!

Unbeweaveable! The Joys of Artificial Hair

I will never understand how writers swill scotch and whiskey and turn out masterpeices, just churning out the writing with every icy clink of the glass. Ill tell you what, four makers rocks later, AFTER a night's sleep (albeit short) and Im wondering if maybe Tagalog wasnt my first language. The party was fun. The beautifully legal graduation party that is. Chloe and I pooled our resources and threw a joint grad party at lo fi. It was great to see so many people from so many places in our lives all together in the same room. At the same time, it was a little nostalgic, knowing Im going to be leaving and also seeing the large holes in my social fabric left by the NYC brain drain. Oh, yeah, for those of you who havent already noticed, bulletin: by 2010 Seattle will be a dune style wasteland populated only by wealthy plastic people driving huge space-ready utility vehicles and totally unreliable yet somehow employed neo-hippies (think fremont) with enough leisure time and expendable income to start "reggae bands" which are booked and attended only by other neo-hippies who dont give a rats ass about expertise or authenticity. There will still be a film festival.As for New York you wont be able to spit without hitting a Seattleite. Just a heads up. Anyway, I looked like a Mexican talk show hostess at the party. The other best comparison (however hurtful) was from my sister's friend Dawn who told me I looked like I should be singing with Pavoratti. You know how you see those operatic sopranos (at least my sister and I see them, being that my dad is the last living subscriber to Gramophone Magazine) with all that hair and think "Damn! how did she get all that into that dress!! And where do you get sparkly dresses like that anyway?"
Abena did my hair. We had an artificial hair class last week where she and Shilana taught a bunch of different kinds of weaves. It was fun and I feel like given some practice I could really do most of them. On me, because she knows im not going to be wearing the thing for three weeks, not washing my hair or being able to get to my scalp, she did a cap weave. A cap weave is like a wig, but its on a very fitted stocking cap and you lay the tracks on the person's head so that it fits them exactly. So she made me this gorgeous huge curly wig. She used three packs of hair, without splitting the tracks (the hair comes on a weft which is made up of two thinner wefts stiched together, you can split them apart for cost effectiveness or for a more natural, flatter look) which means it was very full. It was really nice, human hair that we had bought at the hair store (!) on 23rd and Jackson the week before. Very soft and shiny, nice texture. She braided my hair underneath the wig so that it would be compact and so it would have some texture to keep it from slipping. Which it did not. It was very comfortable and secure. The braiding was a hilarious experience in and of itself. She had never braided white people hair before, and seldom works on it in any other capacity either, so she was appalled by how slippery it is and how hard to braid. Her braids looked horrible. I had told her to use some product to get it to have some grip, and she finally believed me. So she scoops out the pomade i gave her and starts pressing and smoothing it into my hairline. I was like I had nappy edges and needed a touchup. I set her straight about where the stuff had to go and how my hairline stays flat all on its own! We were rollin'. If I were as bad at doing black hair as she is at doing white hair we'd be in a lot of trouble.
I was the first white person she had ever invited to her house.
I have to find someone to pass Ms Alexander on to when I leave. I tried out this third quarter woman Jackie who is admittedly rather odd. She is older, like mid thirties. Very overweight in a disproportionately stomachy way. She once told me that her fat protects her and if she was my size (!) she would get in all kinds of trouble. Like I can just roam the streets in a bikini. She was a stewardess and always makes these flight attendanty comments, supposedly humorous, like "Your Moet is on the way," or "Would you like the Chicken Kiev?" I think she was created to be an assitant of some sort, she seems to love going and getting stuff, making peoples tasks easier, handing you things just generally making sure everyone is taken care of. Its odd. But she is funny and has very good attendance and manners and I thought she and Ms A would hit it off. Well they didnt. She drove Ms Alexander crazy. and she made her look like a puffball. there were peices of hair hanging out of her rollers. Yeeeh! I havent talked to Ms A yet but I know she's gonna ream me. I left her a message on her machine while she was in the girl's chair apologizing. Now I have to figure out some kind of way to tell Jackie that she isnt going to be passed on to her without totally crushing this woman's feelings. Good times.
I did Chieni's hair on friday after giving Delphine a great haircut. Chieni's hair didnt turn out how I wanted it, its cute but im gonna redo it so its what we meant to get. The foils are nicely placed and everything but the teachers bamboozled me with conflicting ways to do the thing (she wanted purpley red highlights in her jet black natural hair) and I ended up second guessing what I knew would work and making some mistakes. I knew I should use a low level developer so that it would lift slowly and id have more time before all the red pigment lifted out, since we were going for a red result. Ms V told me I should use 30 because it wouldnt lift easily since it was so dark, which just doesnt sound right to me, but I didnt want to question her. So of course i didnt even see the red stage before it went to orange and gold. So she told me to just spray the bleach down and wipe it off instead of shampooing, which also sounded strange, how can you get even color penetration if some parts of the hair still have bleach residue and 30 vol developer on them, which is unavoidable without a thorough rinse, So it didnt take evenly, either some of the strands didnt get into the packets somehow, which I doubt because I triple checked, or didnt absorb the color. Whatever happened itll be easy to fix and it looks kind of cool and sunbursty but it was frustrating to know I knew how to do something and doubt myself to where i end up doing things wrong. I guess its a lesson learned. Other than that, we did the practice test for the beauty bar on Tuesday, it was super super annyoing but, thats the nature of the beast. Our final is tueday and we have to do the test again exactly as it will be administered. Then we have to take a mock written exam like the written practical. Graduation is on Wednesday. Good lord. I cant wait for the pictures. One more costume opportunity taken full advantage of.

Hilarious Tales of Race and Predjudice!

Im a whore for extra hours. I have 125 to make up after this quarter is over. Not too bad considering thats about a month missed over a year and a quarter, but I am dying to be done and have some summer left before I blow this popsicle stand. To that end, i went with Ms V to Langston Hughes Performing Arts Center to do hair and makeup for the Nova School play. It has been a long time since I was in high school, I will give you that but I just know I KNOW I wasnt that dorky and hideous. Anyone who knew me then and disagrees can kindly shut their yapper. THese kids were so nerdy it was all we could do to not laugh out loud at them. And their teachers were so damn disorganized it was amazing to think that theyd had any prior rehearsals. It was me, one other girl from my class, and a few of the hilarious mean AfAm girls from the third quarter class. They, having mostly gone to rainier beach, had never experienced this kind of extreme white nerdyness before, I dont think, and they thought there was seriously something wrong with these kids. They were all speaking in english accents, this one boy had huge curly hair which he let mat into nasty...matts in the back of his head which I had to comb out and flatiron. He complained and sucked breath in dramatically the whole time. After about 2 hours, we had about had it. Ms V owed me a birthday drink so we decided to go eat and have a drink nearby while the play went on. Gwenevere, a HILARIOUS 50 something woman who looks about 30, and the two other younger black girls and Ms V and I all cut out and went to a little ethiopian restraunt down the street. We drank honey wine, ate gomen and laughed about people at the school until we cried. Gwenevere told this story about Evelyn, remember the jeweltone wearing ex crackhead in third quarter who was the victim of the other crackhead's attempt at a french twist? Well, in a strange turn of events, it turns out Evelyn, despite looking for all the world like a lost cousin of the Judd family, is black. I dont know how or why, but apparantly she is. ive seen her family, and they certainly are. And so is her husband, to whom she has been married for nineteen years and is very very handsome. You just never can tell. Anyway, for some reason, Annie, an older chinese woman in the second quarter class (whom I avoid like the plague because I cant understand a cottonpickin' thing she's saying, and she always asks me questions, at least I think theyre questions, and laughs uproariously, leaving me feeling very weird) was trying to get to Evelyn's House on beacon hill. So evelyn gets a call from the nearby firestation. She answers, Its Annie. Apparantly she was on her way to evelyns house but got scared by the AMOUNT OF BLACK MEN HANGING OUT and went to THE FIRE STATION to call Evelyn to come PICK HER UP!!! I almost died. God I wish you could see these people. THen Ms V told a story about ol' Paris Froggylips at the Nairobi hair show. Apparantly she showed up with her boyfriend (who brings their man to a hairshow anyway??) but didnt stay long. Ms V said "Hey I saw you at the Nairobi show but you didnt stay long, were there too many black people ?" Which I thought was pretty ballsy of her just to come out and say it like that. Ms V can get away with anything. So Paris Froggylips giggles and was like "yeah! (like how did you know??) My boyfriend said this place isnt for you, lets go and i was like why and he was like look around so we left." What a fucking dingbat. It was fun, and in school the last few days those girls have said hello, or at least responded when I do, I dont think they can keep up their image of me as a...god, I dont even know what, snob maybe, or wannabe, maybe a know it all. I wish theyd come out and say it to me instead of shutting up when I look their way. Id really be interested to know. I think theyre funny and all really talented hairdressers. Maybe theyll come around. At least Id never cower at a firestation waiting for them to come and rescue me from the scary brothers!
Since memorial day, the breakroom has absolutely reeked of barbeque. And I cant stand barbeque sauce or the way it smells. I know barbequing is a stronghold of black culture, as is bringing it in after a holiday to show off your sauce recipie or who makes the best ribs or whatever, and Im sure it is good but DAMN it smells strong. Nothing like the mingling whiffs of pressing hair and bbq sauce to get the stomach churning. Friday was a good day, despite knowing that by the end of the day I would have no voice (fucking laryngitis,) I worked my tail off. First was Ms Alexander who I love more by the minute. I went to see her on memorial day and sat at her kitchen nook, with her in her purple silk nightshirt and rollers, drinking sparkling white zinfandel, eating cheetos (a combination which she seemed to feel was like chips and salsa) and watching oprah and her friend eat their way accross the country for memorial day. They ended up with Maya Angelou and her new cookbook, which is predictably called something like the Hallelujah table. Ms Alexander showed me pictures of her dear deceased husband and had me park in the driveway to make her neighbors curious. She is an amazing and deeply funny woman.
This friday she was talking about some survey, also on Oprah, which was trying to prove/ dispel the black men are well endowed myth. Apparantly its true, and she said "I say that to say this, my grandson is well endowed! I used to change his diapers!" You know she is always trying to get me to meet her grandson. I told her Id keep that in mind. She also told me a great story about when she was a nurse in the VA hospital in New Orleans. It was at the time of white and colored hospitals, exept for the VA, all veterans went to the same place. So she goes into this soldier's room to bathe him. He stinks to high heaven under the cast hes wearing from the neck to the waist. He says to her "Youre not bathing me! I dont want your black hands anywhere near me!!" She says "Thats fine, but you need a bath, and unless you want to lay there stinkin like you are, Im all youve got!" "What happened?" "I bathed his ass!!" Priceless. Then Gul and Hanifa came in for haircuts (private corner station is perfect for Hijabi haircutting!), then Baby T. I used a lot of the techniques that Ive learned from Becca. I was too sick to go to RL this week, my throat was killing me. Abena and I have become really good friends, and I went to visit her on my sick day. We went hair shopping for my graduation weave. Its going to be AWESOME. Beyonce eat your heart out. I had a perfectly quintessential seattle experience trying to go to a film festival movie, which I never do, and was reminded of why. SO, i knew I wanted to go to this Jeff Buckley documentary really far in advance. I asked Racheal Peacock to go with me, but she couldnt. WHat she could do was give me two ticket vouchers, so I thought "great, I dont have to buy tickets!' I ask Pablo, visiting from NYC, already cant stand seattle, to go with me. Hes free. Its all too easy. Pablo and I meet downtown, pay for parking at EMP, stand in this really long line made up mostly of people I know and narrowly avoided having to "catch up" with, got to the front and were told that they couldnt seat anyone with vouchers until all the tickets were sold, and this was a sold out show. Now, tell me what the use of a voucher is if its only good once the damn thing is full??? I would gladly have bought tickets if Racheal hadnt so generously given me her Linda's neighborhood perk tickets. Thanks! So the dumb VOLUNTEER ticket takers have us wait another half an hour in case some passholders dont show up and then tell us sorry, but we have to leave at least five seats open in case any passholders come late. They assured us that they didnt get to see it either, they werent allowed to stand in the back or anything. I DONT CARE!! Nobody asked your dowdy ass to be a SIFF volunteer! You coulda bought tickets like the rest of the lucky sots that filled the little EMP theatre so fast. The whole thing was so SO annoying and filmly cliqueish. It reminded me why I rarely try to partake in any of seattle's overlauded events. Hopefully the damn thing'll come out on DVD and I can get it at Scarecrow. Obscure filmsnobs that they are.


ADDENDUM: This is the email my friend Amani sent me after the movie. Too funny and illustrative not to include. Enjoy.


so no love lost, dear. I hope. I read your blog today and learned that
you didn't get in to see the Jeff buckley movie. I felt like such an
asshole (passhole), sauntering by you to go in. That voucher situation
is stupid.
The documentary was filled with boohiss shitheads from Jeff's
entourage, plus celebrity cameos from Chris (hesucksIhatehim) Cornell
and areyousittingdown- Sebastian Bach. Because I'm privvy to insider
industry information and such, via Maggie Cornell and family, I
learned that this documentary was highly unpopular with those closest
to Mr. Buckley, hence the Bach appearance. The footage of JB was nice,
not long enough. What I really want is a few hours of footage of him
singing, and interviews with him. This was not that. boo. I give it a
5 on a ten scale. Plus, we happened to be sitting next to Mr.
Boozypants, whose breath was so gin-laden, that it made me nauseous.
Thank God my friend Denise who was sitting next to me, had her
waist-long hair up since her morning shower, and mercifully let it
down, so I could bury my hypersensitive nose in it. I woulda barfed,
or left, or yelled at the dipshit. eugh.
Anyhoodle, I hope this makes you feel a little better. I had access to
another pass that night- if I'd have known you loved JB, I'd have
snatched it up. Believe it or not, I had a hard time finding folks to
come with me! Short notice and all, but still!
So, I'm sorry I was a Passhole, and I hope I wasn't one of the people
you narrowly avoided catching up with in line. ;)
xo
Amani