It has been a bad day--another one--and I feel like blubbering and being held and told that everything will be okay, okay, okay. Instead, I spent $130 on having my hair done by a hairdresser who said when I told him that I am a teacher: "Oh, well it must be much better for you now," (wink). "Less chocolate!" He told me he does great updo-es and would love to do my hair for my wedding and I, stunned, took his card and tipped him. I felt utterly ashamed. And really, it was the icing on the f-ing chocolate cake.
This morning, I'd gotten an email from Martin of the Hurricane Choir. Martin has been nice enough to put a link to my blog from the Hurricane Choir's website, and, lo and behold, someone had actually READ IT! Unfortunately, I offended my dear reader--a nun who'd been helping organize voices and rehearsal spaces for the choir--with my use of expletives. Martin, bless his heart, was passing along a message of said nun's disapproval and wondering (again, bless his heart,) what he should do.
Now, I realize that much much much can be said without the use of four-letter words. And I realize, too, that relying on expletives is, in some senses, a rather lazy way of expressing anger. It lacks imagination. It reeks of hastily put together--and not particularly inspiring--ideas.
But if a reader (and yes, even a nun) were to read my blog--if she were to acquaint herself with my experience--she would know that Post-Katrina life in New Orleans can make one lazy, unimaginative, and, in general, lacking in ideas. In short, sometimes this life in New Orleans isn't just hard, and it doesn't just suck; it's f-ing hard, and it fucking sucks!
Still, in honor of my Episcopal roots--and in light of my experience this afternoon (when Tommy the Hairdresser offended me after he simply ASSUMED that I thought what he thought, believed what he believed,) I hereby vow to clean up my blogging language. I will find better words than "f--k." I will substitute "s--t" with "poo."
Having said this, I would like to point out that both I and the Sister are lacking in one very important department: we both lacked the courage to speak for ourselves. I should have said something to Tommy the Hairdresser, and dear, dear, Sister, you should have said something to me.
So, I invite you, dear readers (all two or three of you) to make use of the "comments" link at the end of each entry. After all, while I may be someone who says "fuck," I am NOT someone who would say "fuck you."