Alex's Flipturns

I went for a session with the Shiverers at the King Alfred Leisure Centre. In the lane next to me was this boy who looked to be about half my age. Before we even got in the pool, I could tell he wasn’t a serious swimmer since he didn’t pull his shoulder-length brown hair under a cap, but from the condition of his hair, he probably still attended a good many sessions—the ends of his hair was turnig that whitish swimmer-blond color caused by the chlorine in the pool.
My assumption that he wasn’t a “serious swimmer” was further supported by the fact that he barely completed one lazy fifty for warm-ups, whereas all of the other swimmers did two-hundred meters or more. However, once we began swimming, I realized that this kid was actually fairly fast; probably faster than me. His technique wasn’t good: he created way too much turbulance in the water to have an efficient stroke and, as a result, I ended up with mouthfuls of poolwater every time I breathed to his side of the lane. Still, when he gave effort on our sprint set, he could keep up with me and sometimes even passed me. This ability was particularly amazing because of the fact that every time we reached a wall, flipped, and pushed off, he would bulldoze into the water, head-and-shoulders first. I, meanwhile, tucked my ears between my elbows, extended my arms in a point over my head, and kicked a good half-body’s length ahead of him before he could get any momentum going with his stroke again. Effectively, I streamlined; he didn’t.
After observing this on every single wall it bothered me so much that I finally resolved to say something. We were resting at the shallower end between sets when I turned to him and asked, “How old are you?” It took him a moment to realize I was speaking to him, but eventually he responded, “Thirtehn.” “Do you compete?” “Ya.” “You’re really quite fast…why don’t you streamline off the walls?” He looked confused for a minute while he processed what I had said, and then ducked his head a little with an embarrased smile. “I cahn’t.” I paused. “You’d go so much faster if you did. Like, I bet you’re faster than me.” “Ma coaches allwhys get on meh about thaht.” He looked away, effectivly ending the conversation.
Still, I couldn’t leave it alone. At our next break, I had to ask, “Do you coaches just bug you about it all the time, or do they show you? Like, teach you?” He looked at me oddly. “Streamlining I mean,” I added. “Naw, theh just tell meh.” I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, but this was really bothering me. A thirteen year old swimmer who didn’t streamline! This would never be permitted in the States. Not on any club team I had ever swum for.
I wanted to take him into the shallow end and show him how to do a proper flip turn. I wanted to explain why he needed to push off on his back and how streamlining would make him faster if he practiced it. But how could I do any of this without insulting him and embarrassing myself? Who was I to try and act all knowledgable? I was just some college-age American who couldn’t even beat the twelve-year-old swimmer in my own lane. How could I claim to know better than their coaches?

Chickpea Queen

I made dinner on this particular evening for my Singaporean friends Michelle (who is taking the picture) and Angela. On our trip to Spain, Angela told me that she had never eaten chickpeas before. As my garbanzo obsession is well-realized within the first-floor kitchen (see title), who better to introduce her to this delicious food source than me? I cooked up an Indian recipe mailed to me by a dear old Indian woman friend of my father’s, Queenie. Add a cabbage salad creation of my own and hot pita bread—which, I will admit, I heated in the microwave oven rather than bake fresh—and wha-lah! Dinner is served.

And, might I add, I look mighty tan here. I must heartily thank the surprisingly ample supply of early April British sunshine we have had recently.

People You Know

People see what they expect to see. We look for the familiar. For instance, I’ve been thinking about “home” (that is, Pittsburgh) and the people I have grown up with a lot recently. The more I think about them, the more I think I see them. Everywhere. Yet, the strangest part is, I don’t necessarily see the people I think about.

I once found myself walking down North street, having just finished a good think about college and whether or not I’ll have my job at the coffee shop when I get back, and all of a sudden I passed a stocky chap with curly dirty blonde hair and do a double-take. Was that Brad Zaccharo? It couldn’t be; he was still in America. A second look assured me it was not. But the strangest thing is, I haven’t thought about Brad in ages, and I might not have actually seen him in person since we graduated high school together. I never knew him particularly well. Why would I imagine seeing him in Brighton?

I have also caught glimpses of George duplicates around Brighton, as well. I’ll see the Jesus-hair, the nearly-beard stubble, the tall lanky body sloping almost lazily except for his subtly athletic gait—and turn sharply to get a better look. Somehow, the possibility of finding my old swimming coach in Europe isn’t so far-fetched, although I logically know he’s still in Colorado, coaching his team of prodigies at the US Olympic Training Center.

Just today, I was sitting by the oceanside promenade, my work spread across my blanket on the grass. I had given up on the article I was reading for the seventh time--Parieto-frontal interactions, personal space, and defensive behavior--and had lain down my pen when suddenly, I heard the tinkling sound of a tinny bell. I turned and found my lap filled by an exuberantly happy little white dog. The creature seemed to be smiling its face off at being allowed to run around in the grass, basking in the sunshine, investigating people like me. And what was my first thought? She looks just like Nelly.

Hair Today....

So I an inquiry to all of my nearest, dearest, fashion-savvy female mates regarding a potential haircut. Below is my e-mail and their responses. For those of you who know my friends, can you guess whose reply is whose? And can you guess what I decided to do?

I am seriously considering chopping off all my hair while I am over here. Maybe very soon. And when I say all, I mean ALL. I'm including some pictures to give you an idea. I'm a little terrified and have lots of pros/cons about the idea, but I figure if I don't do it here/now, I may never get up the nerve. Let me know your opinion/what you think.

Basic pros/cons:

pros: less maintenance than even right now (and I'm sick of ponytails), something new, easy for swimming (not that I'm doing any right now)

cons: mistaken for boy or lesbian (b/c I do not have particularly femela features or wear female clothing), not attractive to guys (seriously, poll any guy you know; not that I'm looking to attract anyone in particular, nor should this matter, theoretically), problems of growing it out when I want long hair again

Please give me your honest opinion


-Allison

Ok here's what I think after looking at pics of you on facebook (btw very jealous of the awesome time you are having). I think before going that short you should try something just a little bit longer for two reasons. If you don't like it that short it won't take as long to grow out. Plus your hair can get really curly and all of the very short hair cuts I found had people with straight hair. So if you got a bob-type hair cut it could be curly or straight and look cute either way. I attached 2 pictures of similar length/style so that if you got the type of style pictured in the straight hair picture it would look similar to the curly hair picture if you decided to wear you hair curly too. This sounds a bit confusing, but I hope you understand what I am trying to say. When in doubt I always ask the person cutting my hair what they think because they seem to know the most about face shape and hair (I just got 5 inches cut off so I'm all about changing up hairstyles at the momen t). Can't wait to see you! Only a few more months!

i say do it. we did it to a girl over here, and while i don't think she's that attractive, it when fantastically well, she looks like a rocked out audrey hepburn, and she got her hair cut by drunk civilians.

you can only do better.

why i think it will look better: you'll get it done right, i think it will emphasize the upper portion of your face, which is stronger and more feminine anyway (your eyes are bigger than your mouth, for example) and there's always the 'why not?' factor.

if i had the guts and/or the ability to find a decent wig when performing for bellydance, i would.

ok so at first, i was gonna say just go for it and chop it all off, especially in England, where it feels like you can take more risks and do whatever because you're living in a foreign country :) BUT then i started looking at pics of you and trying to imagine you with short hair. i do think that you have some very femine features, especially your eyes, and i do not think that you would ever be mistaken for a guy. a lesbian is another story, although i'd say the same thing of myself. anyways, i say that if you've ever thought about it before and want to do it at some point, this would be the time to do it. However, i'm definitely a fan of your long hair and i think you would miss it. i have pictures of my own as supporting evidence.....let me know what you decide!

love you loads dahling,

Ok, I understand what you're tihnking completely b/c I honestly want to chop my hair off too sometimes, but even though it may seem like less maintenance, it's really not. Actually, the shorter you go, the more maintenance is required. Keep in mind this is coming from the "girliest girl ever" so I know what I'm talking about, lol. My mom has short hair, I'm sure you remember ad she complains about ahving to do it all the time and is actually in the process of growing it in right now. And keep in mind, that growing it in will be just as painful as "doing" it everyday. Those pictures are cute and while you may be able to get away w/ a style like that, think about all the gel/mouse/hairspray you're gonna have to use every morning to get it to look like that. That means extra time getting ready= extra frustration. I say stay with the long hair. Get layers or bangs if you want something different, although bangs require some work to look good too, but certainly not as much as a short haircut. Remember my frustration w/ my bangs??? I'm laughing to myself right now b/c I'm so adament about the topic, lol. Anyway, let me know what you decide to do. If you're sick of ponytails but hair accessories like, clips or headbands. It's really too bad that I'm not there w/ you right not, lol.

WOW! Allie I never thought that you would decide to be so dramatic and do something quite this drastic! I'm proud of you my dear sister! Hmmm... so how would you look w/ it? Honestly I have no idea. I think that it will probably look pretty good though. About your pros and cons... The major question that I think you didn't cover was, are you willing to get it cut frequently to maintain the haircut once you get it. I mean having super-short hair is fine and daandy and all but if you want it to stay that way you'll have to get it cut more frequently than you seem to have in the past (aka during college.)

To solve the "not dressing girlie" problem ... DRESS LIKE A GIRL! It's really not that hard. I can give you tips and everything! :-) And yes, whenever you decide to grow it out, it will take some time, but come on Al, Goldstein hair grows relatively fast, and you'll be fine. And even if right after you get it cut you decide that you hate it, HAIR GROWS. So don't worry so much in that area.Dan (who is home for spring break) should be coming over later, so I'll ask him what he thinks about the attractiveness...

So after all of that... here is my vote. Go for it. and let me know what you decide!

Love you!

P.S. Speaking of hair... I've decided that after prom I'm going to color my hair some type of red/blonde. what do YOU think?

Shelter Character Sketch

Juliana is the talkative one I mentioned before. She is probably about my age, perhaps a year or two younger, with the typical layer-lots-of-bright-lycra female English fashion sense and the capability to turn any conversation topic into something that she can prattle on about for literally hours without pausing for more than a split-second’s breath. She makes no apologies for her talkativeness—she straightforwardly told me that people she meets either like her or dislike her because they are either “friendly and willing to talk” or “unfriendly and antisocial.” It took me about five minutes to realize that “unfriendly and antisocial,” in this case, didn’t mean untalkative, but unwilling to listen . . . and perhaps a tad impatient.

Juliana’s best working partner was a fifty-five year old lady named Susan who was cutely dressed in a jean skirt and green sweater set—her “frumpy clothes” that she could “get dusty,” she claimed. Susan and Juliana were a perfect conversationalist pair: Juliana did most of the talking, with Susan inserting her own complaints about absent workers and evaluations of donator’s bad fashion whenever a gap opened up in the conversation.

One other volunteer I see on a consistent basis is Pan. (I feel guilty that every time I say her name, I cannot help but think of the Disney movie.) She is from Indonesia, and came to the UK two years ago, when she married a British man. She’s only twenty-four, but for some reason, regarding her as a married, non-working woman who is using her time to volunteer makes me think of her as a “woman,” even though she appears and dresses just as young as any of my peers.

The first time I volunteered at Shelter and met the two managers, I tended to feel more comfortable with Barry than with Jen. I am embarrassed to say that this comfort level was based upon appearances. (It is wisely recommended not to “judge a book by its cover,” but what else do we have to base our initial judgments upon?) Barry is a thin English chap, probably in his mid-twenties, with long, thin, slightly frizzy blond hair and light-colored skin. He has very narrow, bird-like features—close-set eyes, pointed nose, thin lips—and would look scholarly except for the fact that he dresses more like a painter home from work for the day: scruffy sweaters or loose button-down shirts with worn jeans and old-looking shoes, hair tied back loosely. He also always appears to have ten things on his mind, proof of which is given when he cannot seem to give me anything productive task to do when I can see ten thousand methods by which the shop should be run more productively.

Alternatively, the other manager of Shelter is Jen: a busty, six-foot twenty-something girl with short black hair cut up around her ears, half of it died an odd faded shade of blue. She looks as though she could be from the Caribbean; she has what looks to be naturally tan skin, wide-set almond-shaped brown eyes, and supple lips. She also has massive tattoos on her upper right shoulder and left calf. (Of what, I don’t know—I didn’t want to stare.) Perhaps she was busy that day, but when I came in, she barely said hello, and I must admit, from what glimpse I got of her, I was intimidated.

However, yesterday I volunteered for my sixth time, this time with only Jen as the manager. Every other time I’ve been there, Barry has been there also, and usually Jen hasn’t been there at all, but this time Barry was nowhere in sight. When I walked in, Jen looked at me as if I had arrived from Mars and wanted to know who I was. I hesitantly stated my name and said I had met her two Wednesdays ago. Much to my relief, she broke into a knowing smile and laughed, “Oh! I didn’t recognize you at all with your hair back.” See how much difference appearances can make?