Oh, Hi February

February has truly unleashed its wrath - horrendous 40°C temperatures that are driving me insane. I've felt as though I were roasting my insides in my own skin like a big Aussie haggis. I cannot remember a summer being this hot for a very long time. Luckily: we have ducted air-con at home. Unfortunately: it keeps shorting out the power to our house in mid-afternoon. Argh!

Anyway, the last few days have been all over the place... good, and bad.

On Wednesday, I beached it with one of my closest friends. We headed to Nobby's first, where we were toppled over by waves and whipped by kelp cat o' nine tails. Not as strong as her, I was knocked over and dragged with the current closer to shore. All I could think of was our friend at Schoolies who nearly drowned caught in a rip, and the nasty kelp, so we drove around to Newcastle Beach. Much better conditions there - cleaner water, better waves, more vigilant life guards and nicer guys to perve on for sure!

Monstrous waves at Nobby's Beach!

I'd virtually forgotten until the drive home, when we were talking about her TAFE class and how I'd stuffed up Uni for the year, that February Round offers came out that night. 9pm soon came around and I looked online on the UAC website, not expecting much at all. But I was amazed by what I saw in the screen in front of me. Somehow, I'd gotten in to the Bachelor of Communications at Newcastle Uni!

There must have been some serious admin errors, because based on what the staff at the Uni open day told me, that was the only way I could possibly get in. I screamed out to mum in sheer delight but at the same time, doubted it could be true. I logged in to "MyHub" or whatever the Uni student portal is called to access my offer. It was true. There was my name, a student number, B of Communication, and the year of 2011 all ready for me to decide my own fate. Accept. Defer. Decline.

I thought about it for a moment. I'd mentally conditioned myself for a gap year - work, travel, learning French at the WEA. Everything. I also had to hear from that job offer in two days time. Knowing my place would still be held for 2012, deferment it was! A gap year is still my priority for this year - I'm turning 18 and want to enjoy it for a while without the stress of study. That and I don't want to start my degree when I can't get into the Uni bar for a couple of months!

Rest, my precious piggy bank. You needn't worry just yet.

On a high, Thursday, I went into town with another friend. We checked out Hunter Street. She showed me Emma Soup, I showed her the legendary Rock Shop a few stores up, and then we headed to Westfield, Kotara. I was so well behaved! I paid for my lunch and a Boost juice, and that's all. Usually, I have to spend there - I'm overcome with the objects surrounding me... especially in JB HI-FI. This time, my will power had a work out.

Naturally, I have very little money to hand out at the moment in my unemployed state. At the moment I've been following my grandad's motto "spend it wisely". I have an upcoming baby shower gift and belated 18th present to purchase, which will hurt the bank in its current state, but I am happy to hand over the cash. It's for one particular friend who really needs it and will appreciate what I buy for her and her developing bub. Grandad, that's got to be a wise outflow of cash.

Silent indeed.

If you could compare my week to a roller coaster, Friday was the downward slope. I stayed at home, on standby with my mobile phone and the land line until 4pm. No call. I was pissed off, no doubt about it. The guy I'd had my interview with told me I'd receive a call even if I didn't get the position. It's plain rude not to call when you make a date and set certain conditions. The optimist in me tells me to wait an extra week - they could have been as busy as the day I had my interview and had no time to call. If I don't hear in a weeks time, it'll be official - no dice. My littlest cousins came over for a swim, though, and it got the issue of employment off my mind.

Contrastingly, this weekend has been quite cruisey. Very relaxed, very quiet, except for the incessant chorus of cicadas. Tomorrow I start my French class, and I've got to keep looking for work if I am evidently incommunicado. February: a month shaping the year ahead.

Hair

Hair: for me, it has recently become an obsession. After my Year 10 Formal, I decided for the next dress-up occasion I was growing my lifelong shoulder-length 'do. I desired "Mermaid Hair", the sort of shiny, healthy stuff that drapes over breasts, hanging down to your waist. Never a fan of "The Little Mermaid" or similar stories, I have no clue what suggested to me that mermaid hair was the epitome of feminine chic.

Expecting blues and greens for a mermaid illustration, were you?

Two years later and I have my mermaid style: when straightened, it reaches the middle of my back. It's heavy, it gets in the way all the time and it is unbearably hot in summer. Suddenly, after my goal has been achieved I no longer see it as the ultimate girly accessory.

One day I want my face to be framed by a style similar to Alexa Chung's, the next I'm favouring Carey Mulligan's cute crop. I am not familiar with their work, yet I desperately want their look. I am constantly buying hair magazines, trying online style simulators (specifically, the free one at InStyle), and for what? For nothing. I stagnate when it comes to the action of cutting or colouring.

People hate change, but humans are meant to be able to adapt fast, which apparently makes us superior to other animals. So why the hell can't I act as a superior animal and get my hair done? I can't blow caution to the wind and just experiment because I fear what others may think of me. Hair is such a huge part of our culture, yet it is just one aspect of human appearance...

Hair.

Nice locks can attract a partner. Hair - or the absence of hair - can demonstrate youth, maturity, health and illness. The natural growth and colour of a person's mane are altered based on belief systems, eg: Punks, and members of certain religious groups. For women in particular, their tresses also provide a constant topic of conversation. Oh, and styling the mop on your head also creates jobs! It's not just emotional and social, you can capitalise on a person's crown of glory.

Growing up, our attitudes towards hair are quickly influenced. We readily accept the notion of short styles for boys, and longer lengths for the girls. In primary school, I remember when boys got nits their mothers would often just shave their heads. Problem solved! But for us girls, we suffered chemicals slathered on our scalps and hair-pulling with metal-toothed combs to keep our precious, precious locks.

Now I'm older, I do like short cuts. I like bobs and undercuts and all sorts of things. But I'm a scared little cry-baby whose hair will be the same for a while to come.