that little voice in my head...

...is my mother, telling me to get my hair out of my face. having bangs for the first time in more than ten years has been interesting. I can't just pull it into a ponytail anymore. However, a few people have told me that it makes me look completely different. I like that.

Other stuff:

I took down my last post (the Bush-rant) because I felt that I alienated a couple of people. Namely, a guy I've met who read the post and almost decided I wasn't someone he was interested in knowing any longer. I'm experiencing a slight conflict in this matter, though...because I kinds feel like I'm not showing him who I really am. That troubles me.

I spent the last weekend at a church retreat and, if nothing else, learned that I am too hard on myself. Someone else pointed this out. Someone who, at the time, had known me for less than 48 hours. He may be correct.
I spent a lot of the weekend feeling really self-conscious, but managed to let go of it after I made a complete fool of myself on saturday night.

...to dust you shall return.

I went to Ash Wednesday services yesterday, which is especially appropriate since I actually celebrated Mardi Gras in New Orleans this year.

Then I went to Target and the library and the coffeeshop, and had several split-seconds of wondering why people were looking at me funny before I remembered I had ashes smeared in the shape of a cross on my forehead.

To confess, this is one of my favorite times of year, though I know we're supposed to be soberly observing Lent and remembering our own mortality. I try to adopt a new good habit in addition to giving something up, so right now I'm in that fun couple of weeks where this new thing is still exciting and I haven't gotten bored with it yet. Then comes a couple weeks of forcing myself to do it, until I finally achieve my goal--actually making it part of my routine.

I see Ash Wednesday as a beginning--that faint shadow of a cross on our foreheads is a suggestion of what's coming. As we get closer and closer to Easter the cross becomes more distinct--until Good Friday, when it is a bold symbol we cannot miss.

uncommonly good books

I was very sad to discover that one of my favorite booksellers, "Common Reader", has filed for bankruptcy. They introduced me to some of my favorite authors, and I would mark up the catalogs with pens and dog-ear the pages marking books I wanted to read. It was more than jsut a company, it was like a friend with an awesome taste in books.

In the "I'm Bigger-than-You Bookstore" world, its sad to see another independent spirit bite the dust.