Stagnant Utah and the Blue (Green) Hair Fiasco

I hate Utah.

Okay. I don't hate it. I'm just not fond of it. Or, it hates me.. I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'm a mover. I love movement and love lots of change and keeping things going. I wasn't doing that so much in rural Utah and didn't know how to in my stagnant community, where everyone's today is the same as yesterday and everyone's tomorrow will be the same as today. So, moving to California three months ago was great! I started The Artist's Way and was seeing real changes, incredible changes. I was moving and freeing myself, pumped to keep going.

Found this pretty, hilarious shirt while Utah
shopping. ..Kinda wish I would've gotten it. 

And then...my parents requested I fly back to Utah to drive a truck down in their move to California, as their Utah home was finally selling (I had been tending to their California house). ...This sounded like a punch in the mouth for me. I didn't want to go back. Still, the prospect of an active Saturday traveling was exciting!

And it was! It became my artist date for my ninth week in The Artist's Way. I rode on a train (with sweet, chatty Girl Scouts), a bus, and an airplane. I hadn't flown in thirteen years, which was way too long after airports and airplanes had become a kind second home growing up around the world. What a fun activity! It felt right and tickled me all over just sitting in the airport terminal. When we took off, I felt the exhilarating sink in my tummy of accelerating and leaving the ground. Then, I was served drinks and snacks, as I worked on tasks for The Artist's Way and viewed the beautiful world from thousands of feet off the ground. I felt like I was riding a classy and smooth amusement park ride.

And then, the airline's rear wheels touched down in Salt Lake City, and I recalled Marlin in Finding Nemo realizing the light he's playing with belongs to an anglerfish, "Good feeling's gone..." Not only did I lose the good feeling, but I was angry. And I grew in anxiety, as my thoughts raced with, I don't want to be here. I recalled familiar feelings that I'd been freeing myself from of being as trapped, concealed, and hidden as the majestic Utah mountains did to all its civilized valleys. This led to guilt as my parents happily greeted me and took me to dinner.

When we got home, my parents asked if I had plans with friends. I didn't (I had only told one female friend of my arrival and that was only because it came up in a texting conversation) but, anxiety surfacing, stated I needed to dye my hair blue. Blue, really? Yes, blue. I needed to dye my hair blue, and I needed to do it now! After brushing through my mother's concerns for a supposed drug addicted future, I won her to my side and assistance, and we attempted with a food coloring method I found online (we were going for cheap, alright!). It didn't work... Instead, it just dyed parts of my scalp a light blue, which actually was a fun show-and-tell to my old friends at church the next day.

Monday, I got my hair cut and attempted dying it again with a Kool Aid method (people kept asking me why I didn't just get it done professionally or with a real dye kit, but the fun is in the journey! I wasn't doing it for the result). It worked! ...Sort of. My hair came out a green tint, which was still pleasing! Whoohoo!

Still feeling anxious and happening to have store coupons and needing new shoes, I excitedly embarked on a shopping spree with my new green hair! I was met with many compliments from strangers and encouraging inquisitions from store workers concerning my hair. It was fun! However, in one shoe store, I found some shoes that were a pretty mint tint and asked the attendant to check in the back for any in my size. "You tryin' to match your hair?" he sassed. You tryin' to make me belt ya in the gut? was my initial thought, though I'm sure he was purely jesting. No luck with the shoes, but I did find some great, fun clothes elsewhere.

While, obviously, none of this solved the immediate perceived problem of being in Utah, it did make me feel better, as I had gained greater understandings of how to listen to myself and what I need via The Artist's Way, though I had no idea why any of this was significant or important to do until I ran into a friend in the foyer at church the following Sunday. He was surprised to see me and commented on my green hair, to which I replied, "Yeah, I don't really want to be here, so I felt like if I was coming back to Utah I needed to change something." ...THAT WAS IT!!!!!!! Oh, gosh, my excitement hit the ceiling as I realized this in my statement!

I had felt and noticed such growth in confidence and such progression as a whole that going back to Utah felt like taking steps backward, which would be tragic! I likened my experience to that of a dramatic scene in a comedy when one independent-spirited character over-enthusiastically confronts the rest of the cast: "I'm not like you anymore! See. My hair has changed! My clothes have changed! I'VE CHANGED!!! I'm different now!" And that's exactly what had happened. I had to prove I was different. I had to prove I had changed and had moved. I had to keep moving!

Despite my efforts, though, my experience in stagnant Utah would eventually lead to my worst artist date..