RIP Gary Wilburn

I do hair.

My clients are so important to me, not because they pay my bills, but because we spend time together talking and sharing and, well, being friends.

Tonight one of my poor clients was the bearer of some terrible news: Gary Wilburn is dead. I'm glad she was the one to tell me, though, because she is a loving and kind person, and it would have been awful to read about it in the black and white of the local paper, or worse, to not know at all and just think that I'd done something and he'd moved to another stylist.

He was a favorite. We talked about everything - our kids, our ex lovers, our present lovers, our LIVES - and he had appointments scheduled into 2015 that I can't bear to scratch from my book. He was a great friend, like so many of my clients.

He was not an old man. He was 57, and he was busy, you know, LIVING and doing everything he could to enjoy his life. He loved his kids fiercely, wanted to make sure his employees were happy and safe at work, and was really enjoying his time with his girlfriend. He admired her and loved her but, more importantly, he really liked her. They had fun, and I'm glad she could give him that, because he'd had some not-so-good experiences before (not that he didn't own up to his own part of that not-so-good; he was a realist and he knew his part in his past experiences).

His motorcycle...I know he was excited to be riding that weekend, because I cut his hair that week, and I guess I need to look at it like this: He died doing something he loved. He wasn't some old man hooked up to a machine, eating applesauce in a nursing home. He was young and happy and knew that he had a great life.

That's the way to go, right?

Anyway, good bye, Gary. Thank you for the great talks and the champagne when I opened Illuminate and the wine when times were tough. Thank you for the many doses of reality and the compliments and the being so present. I'm glad I was able to be a part of your life. I'm glad I could make you laugh with my stories. You were a good man. The world is a little less...well, yeah, the world is just a little less without you.

A few things my daughter will know about men:

• They make mistakes. Real men will do their best to correct them. Real men also say, "I'm sorry."
• Not all men give up when situations are difficult. A man worthy of your time definitely won't. 
• The best men will not take your shit. They will also understand when something is important to you and will strive to understand why, even if it seems like you're just throwing them said shit.
• They will open your door. Not because they think you need them to do so, but because they want to show you that they treasure you and want to do nice things.

This is why I DON'T wear makeup, guys.

I keep thinking of this picture I saw recently of a girl's before and after. It was titled "This is why we wear makeup, guys."

It kind of pissed me off.

When I first wore makeup, it was for my mom. Part of Filipino culture holds a lot of a girl's worth to her prettiness. When I was Pooka's age, nine, she tried to make me start. I refused, although she made me wear it for pictures. 

Then I wore it to make others see me as pretty, then to make better tips.

Now, though, I wear it when I want to, a few times a year. If I'm not wearing it for me, then I'm not wearing it at all. My mom tried to tell me at nine that I needed it to be pretty; I love this piece of a GoodMenProject.com article saying I don't need it to be beautiful.

No excuses

I have always despised the "boys will be boys" excuse. When everyone else was saying, "He's just trying to get your attention because he has a crush on you," my dad was saying, "Who cares if he likes you? Do you want to be with a boy who hits girls?"

That's what I tell Pooka: Who wants to be with a boy who shows his feelings that way?

And that's what I'm teaching Boy: Do you like when people hit or yell at you? Then don't do it to them or they'll avoid being with you.

It's Been A While...

I've been ghost-writing other people's blogs and haven't made time to write anything much as myself. Even my FB is sad and full of shared posts. I am surrounded by the words of others in many ways lately. I am one of the leads of a full-length feature film being created in Idaho. It's so amazing to act again, and I'm so grateful. It also reminds me, though, that I have stories to share, too, from my own heart and mind. Thankfully, the script is fantastic, full of emotion and realism, so the acting is filling some long empty creative spaces.

That said, sometimes when I can't sleep I'll think about a couple of novels I've been writing for years. I'll play out different scenes in my head, wondering what will make them good enough for others to read and like. Then, the next morning, I'll get too "busy" to jot anything down.

It's got to stop.

I have 1.5 posts I have to finish for a client tonight and then I'm going to write my own words.

Add the words, Idaho

It's been so long since I've used this forum to post, but I think it's important enough to log back in.

Add the words, Idaho.

dance

There are so many things in flux in my life.  Too many.  I feel overwhelmed to be honest.  When I feel overwhelmed, I sit on the floor with my face in my hands and refuse to do anything.

Well, metaphorically speaking.

Truthfully, I back away for a bit and sort of ignore things.  It's terrible, I know, but eventually I get back to life and fix it all.  Right now there are things I need to do and things I long to do.  I wasn't really sure what the longing was for until I meditated: What am I wanting? 

I want to dance.

I want a dress - a red dress, a sexy red dress - that moves with every shake of my hips.  I want Spanish guitar and percussion.  I want hair down to my ass.  I want to feel every bit of air and energy surrounding me.  I want a dark room and hardwood floors so that the echo of my shoes becomes part of the music.  I want to feel that thrill, that passion, that dance used to bring me.

I need it.