Blogs are hard

I’ve always wished that I was somebody who could just talk. Talk and have people listen. Talk and not trip over my words, stuttering over questions. Talk and be interesting. The same thing is with writing. I have always loved literature from Edgar Allen Poe to J.K. Rowlings to the Pelee Island Grapevine (The local newspaper of the island we frequent), but never had much of a knack for writing.

It would be so convenient to be able to put my pen to the paper and have a story flow out of me or take my cell phone out, open up Word Press and have a spectacularly amazing blog. That’s not really how life works for 99% of the population. If you aren’t a literary prodigy, odds are you may be proof reading and scrapping many silly excerpts and articles.

That’s why I say blogging is hard. I don’t have time to brainstorm, draft, edit, tweak, preview and post so I consider my blog to be more in the category of word vomit.

Why am i telling you this out of the blue? Because I love to write, but for the life of me can’t figure out what I’d like to write about. The best part of this blog post is that as soon as I got it out and typed, my brain FLOODED with ideas. I could have just deleted this all and wrote about a focused topic, but I want to share my random thoughts and how I process life.

You know? Happy Sunday!

Brittany breakdown

I’ve always been someone who loved my hair until one day, I didn’t. It started when I was pregnant and hair was just falling out like crazy…until I started to take prenatal vitamins. Then none of my hair would fall out and I was left with a thick, heavy mane.

I got so sick of breaking hair ties, my ponytail giving me a headache and to top it all off, a newborn with a thing for grabbing hair. So I was fed up and chopped it to my shoulders. Contrary to my expectations, my hair was STILL thick and heavy and Riley still tried to forcefully remove it at every opportunity. Now, I couldn’t put it in a fun bun! Why? Because I just ended up with a mullet bun and 5 months later, it’s still not grown back out.

Constant. Hair. On. My. Neck. I am on the verge of a breakdown, Brittany Spears style. My hair is falling out, my baby hairs are out of control, and Riley actually seeks and destroys my hair. If there is hair nearby, his clammy little drool fists will find it.

The only thing keeping this wretched mass of frustration fuel on my head is the fact that summer is almost over and I do NOT bud well with cold ears.

If someone (anyone?) Out there has any tricks for someone who hates hair but would look ghastly without it, I am all ears. (Warm ears for now)