Seeking Straight Answers

How hard can it be to cut a straight fringe?

Am I asking for something so completely revolutionary that no one has ever had the opportunity to practice it, thus producing obscenely rudimentary results?

I think not.

Now you might be forgiven for thinking "Grace, you had your hair cut in Malaysia and you have European hair - what did you expect?" But the truth of the matter is that a crooked fringe is something I get every single time I go to a hairdresser. EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Despite constantly coaching the cutter to "be brave, it's okay to go short, it's only hair, it'll grow back, I've done this a dozen times, it's cool - go for it, I love my fringe short, go on, cut it straight across to the edges, straight across, no don't curve it, go straight, straight to the sides, straight... straight... straight..." I reach a point where I give up and say to myself "I'll fix it up when I get home."

I never ask for a discount for substandard results, I find it difficult to say what I really feel (it sucks, how can you let me go out like this?) and I walk out feeling bad... like I've been a 'difficult' customer.

The time has come for me to seek some straight answers and am asking you to look at the evidence above labelled 'Before' and tell me - do I have the right to be somewhat dissatisfied with the results? Am I being a little too picky in wanting a straight fringe? Should I obediently settle for the lopsided wavy look? Am I being pedantic?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

20 MINUTES LATER...

I could not wait for your answer. JUST COULD NOT. I ended up borrowing Joyce's very professional and sharp scissors to carry out the task and did what I always do after each hairdressing appointment - straighten my fringe.

Ah, that's better. I was going stir crazy. Now I'll upload the 'after' photo so you can judge for yourself.

Until tomorrow, don't always wait for answers when you know what's right for you.

Grace xx

ps. Don't you just love the background fish in the top photo? Looks like they're also evaluating my wavy fringe (click photo to enlarge) .

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Life's a Beach

The difference between life being a b*tch or a beach is often determined by one's flexibility, attitude... and two letters.

Take my recent India debacle. What started out as an act of spontaneity, born out of the spirit of generosity, quickly turned into poop pie.

My first thought was that I was on the wrong path and that the universe was conspiring against me. Truth is, I was impatient. Instead of waiting till I had firmly secured the visa in my hands, I took a risk - albeit a calculated one.

When it blew up in my face (the plan, not the visa), I got into such a spin that I really believed life had just turned into a b*tch.

Two days later, I find myself in sultry Penang spending quality time with a couple I have known and loved since I was fifteen years young. They are the parents of Project Grace 2010's No.1 commenter and winner of the Eiffel Tower key ring - Mr. Garrie aka Top Gun Tenor.

While I may not be in India doing the groundwork for the humanitarian project I aim to launch in 2011 (still can't say more than that), I am recharging my batteries and feeding my soul (not to mention my taste buds - the food here is AMAZING) on an island that is famous for its beaches.

So in the end, being flexible of mind and positive in attitude helped turn my annoyingly frustrating and somewhat stressful situation around. Oh, and the two letters that determine the difference between life being a b*tch or beach, are what you repeat to yourself over and over, and OVER again... O, K.

Until tomorrow, remember that all is OK even when you think it's not.

Grace xx

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In the land of durian and jackfruit

What another insane 24 hours I have just endured... where do I start?

It turns out that under NO circumstances I can acquire an Indian tourist visa outside the country in which I reside - Australia. These laws are new and were only implemented a few months ago.

For those of you contemplating a trip to India anytime, take heed and plan your visit in advance. This can be tricky if you're travelling for an extended period and your intended visit does not fall within the first six months of your journey. The visa commences the date it is issued NOT from the date you enter the country. I am beginning to question my sanity in wanting to conduct a humanitarian project in India!

My next challenge was to somehow salvage some of the money I spent on my India flights. After checking into Chiangi's Budget Terminal, I had one hour to get to the Air Asia counter and back. A seemingly simple task till I realised it was located two terminals away, only accessible by a bus to Terminal 2 and onward Sky Train to Terminal 1.

Aaaaaaaaah. I was literally running.

Long story short. The cold and joyless Singapore Air Asia staff said that it was 'impossible' to get a credit or change the destination of my tickets. My only option was to change the flight dates, however I was warned this could only be done once. Great.

With the clock ticking faster than my brain, I opted to run back to the Budget Terminal and use my flight between Singapore and Kuala Lumpur as strategic thinking time. I needed to calculate realistic and achievable dates for when I could return to India.

Waste time, I could not. After several failed attempts at contacting Air Asia by phone and live chat (only a 415-minute wait), doing it in person at KL LCCT (Kuala Lumpur Low Cost Carrier Terminal) was my only remaining option. It had to be done last night for my flight was scheduled at 6am this morning and if I let it lapse, I would loose my money (and my mind).

By the time I touched down in KL, I was too depleted to be desperate. Not only did I have to act fast to change my India flights, but I was also in a pickle of the accommodation kind. I could not fly back home to Melbourne as my carrier was full and my prospective couch host informed me that I needed to fit in with her schedule (out of the house by 6am and return between 10:30 and 11pm). Not conducive to sorting out my scheit.

In the midst of my madness, and the prospect of spending the night on the airport floor, I had the idea to call my friends who live in Penang (an inexpensive 50-minute flight from KL). They were quick to offer rescue to this damsel in distress, so I booked the next flight. I had three hours before departure to resolve my India fiasco with Air Asia... and that I did.

Expecting a repeat of the Singapore story, I was taken aback by the incredible courteous, helpful and amazingly warm Malaysian customer service. I was told that I would qualify for a credit in which I had three months to use.

"What? But the Singapore girl said... oh never mind, I'll take it", said my mind. Thankfully my mouth stayed shut (surprise surprise).

But it didn't end there. After a series of emails that bounced because the recipient's inbox was too full, I aired my concerns to the still friendly and courteous staff. I explained that while I believed their assurance in my eligibility for a credit (they didn't know about the 'impossible' conversation I had in Singapore), I was concerned that the person in authority would not receive my application prior to my flight departure - hence rendering my request invalid.

I was invited behind the counter (I repeat, BEHIND the counter) and watched as the gorgeous staff member typed notes into my booking. She then phoned her authorising manager, compassionately explained my predicament and got clearance to start the credit process. By this morning I received an email stating that my credit had been granted and I have till November 2nd (the day before my big 4-0) to use the credit. Not only that, but it can be used for any flight to any country. Extraordinary.

The entire procedure took about ninety minutes and before long, I was bound for Penang.

Happy endings are not common with budget airlines, and I am delighted that I have one for you today (that is for those who have read this far - sometimes long stories are just plain long). What a magnificent end to my disastrous attempt at performing an act of kindness in India (still can't say any more about that at this stage).

So here I am in the land of durian and jackfruit. Spikey, pungent tropical fruits that are loved by some and hated by others. A bit like Budget Airlines.

Until tomorrow, seek comfort in knowing that happy endings can still occur after a series of mishaps.

Grace xx

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Smoke and Mirrors

I think I speak on behalf of most human beings when I say "When we are young, we are most impressionable".

We are, aren't we?

We're eager to light up so we can be as cool and sophisticated as those older than us, despite our initial response being cough, cough, splatter, "yuck!"

We spend hours in front of the mirror with ten different hair products aiming to replicate that impossibly stylish look that is sported by our teen screen idols -not to mention applying layers of make up to hide our blemishes and mask who we really are.

We turn to methods of pulling hairs out by their roots in order to have smooth silky skin for longer, despite the excruciating pain we endure to achieve such carnal beauty. To top it all off we mask our natural youthful aromas by spraying an assortment of scents, everything from cheap all over body deodorants to expensive French perfumes.

If you're lucky, there'll come a time when you meet someone who changes your way of thinking - forever. Such a time occurred in 1992 when I shared a house with six fresh-faced Londoners in the south east borough of Lewisham.

I met a young lad named Alan (pictured) who turned my attention to natural beauty. I was astounded to learn that he did not care for the overwhelming pungency of perfume no matter how expensive it was. He was not repulsed by female bodily hair and he preferred women without make up and overdone hairstyles. Wow.

Having shared the same abode with Alan for some time, I began to relax in my body and feel confident to walk out the door sans make up and avec a few strands of rogue hair. I was no longer ashamed of being natural.

In case you're wondering, Alan and I shared a purely platonic friendship despite the fact that I thought he was rather dishy at the time.

So for those of you who are inspired by the fact that I'm comfortable in my own skin, you now know how I reached that point. And for that, I thank Mr. Alan.

Until tomorrow, give thanks to those who have changed your life for the better.

Grace xx

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Manic Monday

Today was UTTERLY INSANE!

I did the unthinkable yesterday and booked a return flight to India without having secured a visa, which is what I had planned to do today.

To be honest, I didn't think it was a big gamble. This would be my fourth visit to India and I did not, for a second, think that I would have trouble attaining a visa.

Why would I? I have never once encountered any difficulties - that is, until today.

Turns out that there have been changes to Indian visa laws and those holding foreign passports can only apply from the country in which they reside.

Translation: "Madam you must go back to Australia and apply from there".

WHAT THE...?

Is that nuts or am I just crazy for thinking it so?

After my insane act of optimism, I am now left without a flight back to Australia till the end of August and I stand to loose a few rupees with my prematurely booked flight to India. Poop!

I've been trying to find solutions all day, but to no avail. The airline systems were down (worrying), my bookings cannot be traced online (I repeat, worrying) and quite frankly, I need a drink.

It's 1:42am here (okay, so technically it's Troublesome Tuesday) and I'm no closer to finding a solution. My flight to Australia is with Malaysian Airlines via Kuala Lumpur and I have an idea to:

a. Try my luck again at the Indian Consulate in KL.

b. Couch surf till I sort this pickle out.

Though right at this point in time, I ought to be choosing:

c. Go to bed and wake up with a fresh outlook on the situation... or a Valium.

Until tomorrow, remember that not everything appears to be what it once was.

Grace xx

PS. Why am I going to India? I virtually hear you ask... let's just say it has something to do with a new project I'm planning for 2011... it may even be called Project Patience at this rate.

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Sunday Sentence

"Character may be manifested in the great moments, but it is made in the small ones."

- Phillips Brooks

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Practice makes perfect... or does it?

We were invited to dinner tonight to witness a spectacular firework practice for the upcoming Singapore National day, which takes place on Monday 9th August.

I found this to be a novel idea - a firework practice. It's a bit like a theatrical dress rehearsal only it's not limited to the 'in' crowd, for everybody and anybody can see it.

Today's practice was the fourth in preparation for Singapore's day of national pride. Yes, you read correctly, the FOURTH practice. I couldn't help wondering... how much practice does one need to prepare for a big event... and whether or not four is overkill.

Is it?

I ponder...

Have I become overly tainted by the all too Australian happy-go-lucky attitude? Have I adopted the 'she'll be right mate' mentality to a fault?

As much as I was truly grateful to witness this explosive display of colour and sparkly bling ten days prior the 'real' event, I couldn't help thinking that the element of surprise would be somewhat diminished by such a profuse act of practicing.

At that point of realisation, I simply had to ask the question - does practice make perfect? Which soon followed by - is perfection what we really want?

Unable to answer myself satisfactorily, I am handing over the question to you. Call it this Saturday's quiz if you will. All answers, thoughts and, or insights welcome.

Until tomorrow, remember that perfection is not necessarily perfect.

Grace xx

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