Dye, No Dye

Making this post made me sad. I saw myself age over the years and it prompted me to reflected upon the context in which each picture was taken, ahh the memories... Anyway, enough with the cheese I need some advice. I don't know if I should dye my hair again or just let it go natural. And, if I should dye, should I do highlights or the real deal?

Below are some photos of my hair at different times in my life, and each with a distinct hair color and style (or lack of one). Try to only pay attention to the hair. I'd love to have the youthful face in '99, but it ain't happening.

Here is my virgin hair in 1999, 2 years before I ever dyed it:



I first dyed my hair in 2001. My hairdresser said he only highlighted it, but when I came back to the states my other hairdresser said it was dyed completely, then highlighted. Here are two pics of it completely dyed in 2002 while I was living in Japan. I didn't cut the people out of the picture on the left, because they are just too sexy to cut out, especially my man in blue. Also you can see that my friend/roommate has the same hair color as me even though we don't have the same natural hair color, so our hairdresser was definitely doing some funky stuff.






Pictures of my grad school days are stuck on one of my broken computers, and all the pics my boyfriend has of me are with my hair up. I did manage to find a sent picture of me at my graduation. So this pic should represent 2003 - 2005. I had a great stylist at the time, so it's unfortunate this all I have to show. He actually divided his time between NYC and Fresno. Why anyone would want to devote any time to Fresno is beyond me, but I don't judge. He did a proper highlight





Here's the only pic I could find in 2006. Dye-wise I hadn't touched it since 2005. Looks like I haven't touched it with a hairbrush in a while either. I guess that's my natural stuff on top. This was a year ago.














Lastly, here are some current pics. I need a haircut too. You can get a closer shot if you click on them. Looking at the one on the left, it appears that I have a funky right eye (my right). I didn't know that and was a little disturbed. I hope it was just a camera trick. However if I do have a funky eye, why wasn't I informed? This isn't the first time I've been left in the dark about some physical defect. No one bothered to tell me for years that I had an odd gait. Although, now that I know, I still walk strangely. Anyway, so I provided another picture I took of myself in the mirror. What do you think? Be honest. Oh yeah, I'm talking about the funky eye not the hair.




So again, looking only at the hair and my skin tone, should I dye it?shave it completely? get a weave? leave it alone? See a shrink?


If I spammed you and asked you to comment about my hair on my blog, my apologies, but since you're here...

The Next Ramones?

This will probably only make sense to a select few of you, but below is a (enter any adjective you see fit) punk rendition of a primary favorite. This apparently was for a ward talent show. I feel so cool to know the bassist, my eldest brother. I don’t think I need to point him out if you read my post about his twins. This is also the same brother who’s an optometrist. With the latter information, that may make him difficult to find, but yeah, this is the same guy who checks out your eyes.




The name of the band is Advancing Reverence, so the attempted mosh among the primary children in their encore performance makes total sense. It’s difficult to see, but in the very far left corner you can sometimes see my eldest black-haired nephew in a blue shirt “fighting” with a blond, red-shirted boy. This sure beats pounding the seats after each line like we used to:

Friday Night "Fun"

Hey Sariah and other interested parties I have a real story for you. No Seattle Grace interns though. When I ask people how to get there they always direct me to the psychiatric hospital.

So let's start the story on Friday night/Saturday morning at 2:00 am. There was much excitement before then, but not relevant to the current story. Though, some relevant background info is that my boyfriend was out of town, and I was a designated driver amongst many drunks (sorry to my drunk friends that evening, but I'm calling you drunks for dramatic effect). Somehow, however, I didn't take home a single drunk at 2:00 am, instead I got the one stoned guy and that is where the story begins:

Actually we don’t even need to start the story from where I took him home, we can start it in the parking lot of his apartment (my memory isn't all the good anymore, so the conversation is only meant to represent the gist, I don't know what was all said):

Boy: So you wanna come up?
Carrie: Hmm…no I'm kind of tired.
Boy: You can just stay here. Just park right here.
Carrie: (not planning on staying, but park there).
[Next Day Carrie says: Why did you do that?]
Boy: So are you going to come up?
Carrie: That’s probably not a good idea. I'm in a relationship.
Boy: I don’t have any social skills so I don’t know what to do right now.
Carrie: (avoiding his last statement, and wondering why he didn’t exit at that point) Too bad you came when you did, you missed all the fun the first 4 hours…(some mindless chatter, still doesn't leave my car, so I ask his age)?
Boy: 23
Carrie: Wow. You look older. I think it's the mustache.
Boy: There's a lady on the bus that has a mustache going. I wonder what it's like to have something like that and know people are looking at you.
Carrie: Maybe she doesn't know. I don't like it when I get a pimple because I know everyone looks at it, even when they don't want to. I do the same…(more chatter, I wonder if he will ever leave, I talk about California somewhere)
Boy: So what brought you up here?
Carrie: I followed my boyfriend up.
Boy: I don't have very good social skills.
Carrie: Yeah, I know how it is. I work with geeks all the time.
Boy: So you wanna come up?
Carrie: I need to feed my cat. He hasn't eaten all day.
Boy: Well here is my number.
Carrie: Thanks.
Boy: (FINALLY EXITS CAR!)
[Next Day Carrie says: Why didn’t you just tell him to leave in the first place? Being polite is not always a good thing.]
[Previous Day Carrie says: There was a good explanation for my actions, I just can’t explain it. ]

Okay, that really wasn’t a story at all. Just a snippet of a real conversation that was very odd. I got lazy.

NOTE: In case the guy in the conversation happens to check the blog, no offense or anything, but you must admit you were being pretty weird. Also, here's a social tip with chicks: Don’t tell them you don’t have social skills even if it's true. In fact, it's probably not the best strategy to point out all your flaws. Honesty is good and all, but let others figure out your weak points.

A Twofer

It’s a two-fer weekend! I was a bit busy this week, so to make up for it I am posting twice for the price of one. Check out the post below this one if you want to hear me rant about the latest development in my accident that occurred 6 months ago.

I’ve shown these guys before, but never as my new monthly feature. So here you go, almost 3 year olds, Luke and Leia, my brother Darth Vader’s twins:



Brief Update: I’m officially returning to academia. I got into the Computational Linguistics program I applied to. Now if only I can get my fractal program (an extension of the lousy graphic program I had to write) to work… I soooo hate graphics.

Accident, Part 2

In the continuing saga of my car accident (yup it’s continuing), I recently received a $2100 invoice from the Washington State Department of Transportation (WSDOT) for guardrail repair. This was a low impact accident; there is no way I caused $2100 worth of damages! Physics is telling me my car would have been in worse shape had I caused extensive damage to the metal guardrail, but perhaps my car defied the laws. I didn’t know he was such a rebel! I’ve given my schpeel to the claims adjustor, so I’m hoping the repair estimate is substantially reduced, it’s added to the initial claim, and I don’t have to pay another deductible. For some reason I’m thinking the last two won’t happen, but a girl can dream can’t she. In a semi related note I got a speeding ticket yesterday, which this time I deserved. I tried to start crying by telling him of my last undeserved ticket, but the cop went ahead and wrote me one.

All in all, I just want justice to prevail. I’ll pay money for speeding, but not as an involuntary benefactor of some WSDOT lottery where they are just waiting for someone to damage their property. Did I mention they only investigated the site 6 months after the accident?