Dry Hair, More of a Scare

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So I am a huge Walking Dead fan. (In fact, check out this vid of me talking about it with the awesome crew on Drinks with Geeks) Well I watch it every Sunday when it comes on. No one can interrupt me after 9 pm. No texts. No calls. I prefer that whatever urgent thing you have to tell me it can wait until either a commercial break or when the show is over. I can wait for the tea; the suspense of Rick and the group dealing with Negan is way more cray. I am also really into the follow up series called Fear the Walking Dead. It finally came back to kick off season 3 this past Sunday. My buddy reminded me and I almost forgot (I know. I should be ashamed). Anyway as 9 o clock approached, something else strange happened. It was a horrifying thing I myself have been dealing with. I usually try to push it out of my thoughts and deal with it the best way I can. However, that night it crept up on me like an annoying mosquito. A chill went down my spine while the thought possessed my mind. It took over my conscious making me ignore the most important thing on a Sunday night. I was being taken over, but I could not stop it. I had to know how to fix my problem. I had to find a way to combat my dry hair.

Yes people, dry hair. I have been dealing with this horror for months. Naturalistas gave me advice on how to keep my hair from being dry. Moisture is key they said. Deep Conditioning is important they said. However, after deep conditioning my hair once a week, my hair always eventually became a dry Brillo pad. I love my kinks and you must nurture what you love; I must continue nourishing my tresses. The itch for understanding took over this past Sunday and I missed the first seven minutes of Fear the Walking Dead. (Side note: It was an incredible episode. Please check it out if you have not. We got the gift of two.) I started looking up my hair type – a search I completed about a year ago but was still not completely sure at the time. A dope site called Black Naps had a quiz which helped me learn that my hair type is…… drum roll please………4b.  I learned that my hair type shrinks up to 70%, benefits from protective styles like buns, twists and braids and requires a lot of moisture, continuous deep conditioning and gentle cleansers.

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Through more research, the goddess at NapturallyCurly showed me the light in understanding why my hair is a Brillo pad. In an article about moisturizing your natural hair, the author of the site Lisa wrote about the importance of understanding your hair’s porosity which is how open your cuticles are on your hair shaft. Low porosity means that your hair is not getting enough moisture while high porosity means your hair is getting too much moisture. There was a link that led to a test in discovering your hair’s porosity. An adventurer at heart, I had to continue the quest in creating moisture for my kinks. As Travis was going through hell in fighting for his family, (Bit of a spoiler but you still need to watch to find the goods =p) I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. The test: I had to put a strand of my hair in the cup to see if it sunk. If it sunk, my hair has high porosity. If it floated, my hair has low. As I sat back down to continue my show with the cup in hand, I sent a mental message to my hair follicle; “Little buddy, I am depending on you to help me understand you. We’re all rooting for you. I know you can do it.” I put the glass on a surface and placed the hair strand in the water then waited. While Fear the Walking Dead continued, my kink peered up at me as it stayed on the surface. A few minutes went by and it was still chilling at the top.

Discovery: my hair has low porosity. After all this time, now I finally know. The article  went on to explain how to care for the both high and low porosity hair which for me is with buttery products and oils like jojoba oil and coconut oil. The quest in understanding my kinks continues. I plan to try some butters and oils this week and see how it may help my hair. Though I loved the premiere of Fear the Walking Dead once I was able to fully focus, the fear of dry, brittle hair is far more scary. These now brown red, tapered kinky coils that sprout up from my scalp are a representation of who Tiffy is; I must honor, respect and treat them with care.

 

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My Worst and Best Summer

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I wonder if I even know how to write about music anymore. Can it be a lost art? Are my fingers now rigid from lack of motivation? I mean, it’s not that I’m not inspired to write; life is an inspiration in itself. My problem is that I’m too busy living it. I’m too tied up getting caught up in it’s sticky web instead of taking the time to mark it all down.

Days heavy with heat are slowly being replaced with the complacent cool of the next season. While the city literally baked at times this summer, my mental state was transforming to liquid form. Life had lifed me, a term I learned from an incredible writer named Evan Sanders. It tripped me up and laughed at me as tears fell down my face. But it’s cruelty was a clear example of tough love. The despair taking over my soul did not win.

I lost the first job I ever loved this summer. It felt like a serious slap to the face because it came out of nowhere. I was ready to get back to work, excited to pour my best effort into it and what….huh?…..really?……You’re letting me go because of:

a)  Lack of Growth (what does that even mean?)

b) Budget Cuts (Aha!!!)

c) Disagreement to the mission (I must have had amnesia the day I ever bashed the mission.)

Nevertheless, my world was turned upside down. It sucks when something you’ve invested so much time in is suddenly taken from you. And it came at such a difficult time in my personal life.

My grandma died just the week before this happened. The woman who had raised me from a baby was now gone from my life. God took her away from us. She’s now resting peacefully at home in heaven where she belongs. It’s never easy losing someone. You know they’re in a better place. You understand that they no longer have to deal with pain. The suffering of this life is an ordeal they no longer have to go through. Yet, it still hurts.

There is also this guilt because I know I didn’t spend enough time with her when she was here. I spent too much time hanging out with friends and having fun. Now I’ll never get the chance again in this lifetime. Giving her a hug when I see her is a past time now left for my memories.

With all this renewed freedom, time was now both my best friend and my enemy. Much time was spent trying to make the best out of such dire situations. Of course, losing my grandmother was much harder to deal with than losing my job. I loved both, however, life goes on.

Laughter radiated throughout my body when a close friend would make a joke. Bliss brought me inner peace when watching random movies with my parents. Hope lifted the happy place in my mind after a great talk with an incredibly inspirational person. Even the quiet moments to myself  in the city I love or at home provided me the strength that was meant to come.

However dark life may seem to be does not mean you must live in that darkness. As long as there is air coming through your lungs, there will be opportunities to achieve joy. The people you lose will always be with you. Embrace the spirit from when they were here; it will walk with you throughout your life. My grandma’s spirit will always be with me. She had a powerful effect not only on me but on the rest of my family as well. We will always love you grandma.

Her spirit will carry me through my darkest days and my happiest moments. This summer in some ways was awful, but it was also the best for me. Never have I ever gained so much strength. Losing my job also made me reflect a lot on my time there. It made me realize that this was probably the best for me. It made me think more about what I want and about what I deserve. I still want the best for them and wish them much success, but this was God’s will. When something or someone is no longer in your life, let it go. For certain, there is an opportunity waiting for you to take a bite out of it’s sweetness. Don’t let the weight of something you lost drag you down. I did for a while, but the time to wallow in pity is over.

I started thinking more about what I require and desire out of life. Losing something I loved so much made me see that there is a position more right for me once I really thought about what I wanted. There is a beautiful piece of passion, excitement, growth, team work, challenge and more sitting in a nice package for me. Once my employment package and I meet, my life can only improve.

I am a better person now because of all that I lost. For a long time, I have not really been able to write. But I am starting to find my inspiration again. I am returning back to me and it feels great. Life can only get better from now on. If life lifes me again, I can smile and recognize the unmistakable sign of growth. Through difficult times, remember to smile; for you are blossoming.

Current Flow:  Lianne La Havas

 

 

The Enemy

It’s easier to ignore it when it’s not in your face. I tell myself, it’s not so bad; I can deal with this and use it to help me. It’s only trying to make me a better person. Although, every time it confronts me, I feel like it consumes me in an enrapture of negative energy. I can’t control it nor gain from it. I try to pull every ounce of good from this force that keeps disturbing my already not-so-stable world. I try to remain calm, cool and collected with this energy. But when you’re under a fire, it’s hard not to get burned.

What I’m talking about is something everyone has to deal with in the realms of their work place, the comforts of their homes, or from the mouths of their bluntly honest friends. Criticism has been my enemy since the first time my mother scoffed at my 85 test score and questioned why I didn’t get a 100 as a child. I know it’s just a way for people to help me. I know it’s a way for me to grow. I know it’ll only help me in the future. But, for some reason, hearing the critical truth stings to the core of my feelings every time. It’s like being in a sumo wrestling match with my conscious. The bigger, rounder, heavyweight, foot stomping fighter is the pessimistic side shouting “These people know nothing of your efforts. You can not do anything right, fool. Crawl right back under that rock from whence you came from.” And then there’s the hopeful, optimistic, more like me side that’s tiny and cowering in the corner from the massive aggressor that squeaks in a quiet voice “These people are only trying to help you grow. They want you to be better. They see potential in you. Don’t take it personally.”

Of course, the victor goes to the big, fat blob who bounces negative words on my head with every round. But the fight isn’t over yet. I’ve grown more and more accustomed to criticism. Especially after bracing the harsh winds of this cold world once I graduated from college. It truly has made my skin tougher and helped me to become a stronger person than I ever thought I’d be. So the next time my conscious dukes it out in the ring of good vs evil, I know that little sprout of positive energy residing in me will become a larger force to push me towards a greater tomorrow. Got to love that criticism.

The real enemy here is the fear of being wrong and of being a failure. This song by Kirk Franklin greatly exemplifies my enemy as its so adequately called “Hello Fear.”