Five years ago I came to a really tough decision in my life. I gave up on my dreams of becoming a professional screenwriter, packed my bags, and left LA. I had just been laid off from my job. There was no way my unemployment was going to get me through even one month in LA. The decision was a hard one, one of the most difficult I have ever made. It's not easy to give up on a dream, but the truth I just didn't have the right attitude for a Hollywood career.
Don't get me wrong, I'm a great screenwriter. I've won multiple contests and was a Nicholl semi-finalist last year. My problem is an inability to self-promote, and especially to ask for favors. I would do all the right things, go to the right parties, talk to the right people. I made loads of friends in the industry; producers, actors, directors, other screenwriters. People who were successful and could have helped me, but I was never able to ask for help. It just felt so wrong, dirty really, to use my friends like that.
So I left LA feeling a little bit bitter. Between low pay and high cost of living I was struggling every day to just survive. Sometimes I would go a week or more with no food at all, and I could never afford to put gas in my car so I was walking everywhere. Yet somehow I was gaining weight the whole time. Anyway, I went to stay with my parents in Oklahoma.
While living in LA I had a lot of fun with my hair. I colored it every week, sometimes normal colors sometimes manic panic colors. I was bleaching it every other week. I even went through a stage where I would rat the heck out of it every day and almost never brush it. Needless to say (though I am saying it anyway) my hair was a mess when I left LA.
After being in Oklahoma for a couple of months my hair had grown out a bit. At that point I cut it all off, leaving only the new growth. That was five years ago.
Now my hair is down to my butt. It has no style because everytime I go to a salon someone butchers it. The last time I went I asked the woman to put a toner on it to make it less ashe and the stupid ho-banging bitch-licker BLEACHED it. I told her flat out I did not want it lightened at all. I have light ashe blonde hair, why the hell would you bleach that? At my scalp my hair turned white, and the HBBL blamed me for having a warm scalp. Yeah you stupid whore, it's my scalp's fault you have no idea how to treat blonde hair. Oh, and she also cut off six inches despite me expressly tell her not to cut it more than three inches.
Anyway, now I am truely terrified to go to another stylist. But at the same time, my hair is down to my BUTT and has no style at all. I've been thinking about cutting it all off, but I love having long hair and I really hate myself when my hair is short. I wish there was a long-hair salon local, but alas there is not.
Why do stylists always insist on doing the exact thing that you tell them not to?
So, here is your opportunity to tell your hairstyle horror stories. I know all the ladies have at least one, probably some of the men, too.
Oh... if only I had an extra $600 to spare I would get a Brazilian Keratin Treatment.