
This is us imitating how Cara dives. The guy in the pic is Ayman, our instructor.





This is me post-diving with some mega-boofy salty hair. I had no idea I was looking quite this sexy or I might have done something about it...







A blog following the life, times and varying opinions of a font Nazi. [Disclaimer: not many entries actually deal with fonts. In fact not very many at all, at the moment it seems to be filled with pictures of my personal baking and general design eye candy. You have been warned.]



























All my hair is gone. Well for me it's all gone- this is definitely the shortest I've ever had it. It's above my shoulders and I can hardly tie it back. The weird thing is, I'm really happy with it and it isn't quite what I was expecting. It would seem that I caught myself in one of my oh-what-the-heck moods. I knew I wanted a change- well I thought I wanted a change but was totally prepared to hear myself asking the hairdresser to just tidy it up a bit. Instead, I heard myself telling him to have at it and I wanted a change. Hmmm.... Usually I've never totally happy with my haircuts but ignoring that, I love going to the hairdresser.
I love watching hair getting cut- the shaping it out of nothing kind of thing but nobody has ever been as fun to watch as the guy who cut my hair yesterday. He is without a doubt the most energetic hairdresser I've ever seen. He stood behind me and kind of bobbed and danced around and his enthusiastically hacked off my hair, I felt like I'd had a workout just watching him. Eventually I had to ask if he stabbed himself a lot with the scissors when he was learning and he said that he still does from time to time
and I find that very easy to believe. He said that to get proper texture in to hair, the movement of the scissors is the most important thing in which case I must have some of the most energetic and lively texture out there. I made Sarah take some photos of it last night and although they don't really it justice (please ignore Sean in the background), I thought some photos were better than none. Also I didn't fluff it properly at the back so it looks uneven but it isn't really. Obviously. So yesterday I was trendily salon-styled Aynia but this morning I got to wake up to just-slept-on-it, low maintenance Aynia and now I remember what my hair does when it's short. In true Gemini fashion, it can't make up its mind so the left side likes to be all funky and flick out and the right side likes to be all conformist and curl in. I spent about 5 minutes running a wet hairbrush through it and trying to coax both sides to do the same thing, no matter what that might be and then gave up because it doesn't really bother me that much. So I have insane hair- so what?11. The other day a group of teenagers from the not-so-nice high school on my bus route boarded the bus and began some typical stupidity---throwing stuff, fake-wrestling, etc. Normally I don't care, but after one of them almost crash-landed in my lap for the second time I pulled out the headphones and tugged on the sleeve of the closest perpetrator, saying, "Hey. Please cut it out."
Maybe I delude myself in thinking that I look like enough of a mom/old lady/respectable citizen that they would be a tiny bit chastised and comply. Because I was honestly surprised when I the kid told me to fuck off. It may sound otherwise in this diary, but I am pretty chill about public space. You can skateboard or yap on your cell phone or sing to yourself and as long as you don't actually SHOVE ME or YANK YOUR ROD it is all good in the hood. But shove me AND give me lip AND you are a punk-ass no-account high school kid in the bargain? Oh, then it's on. I gave him my best stern look and started putting my book away and getting my gloves on, because we were almost at my stop.
One of the Shoving Kid's friends snickered something about his reprimand while I was standing at the back door, ready to disembark, and I heard SK say, "Fuck that. I'm gonna fucking rape that bitch."
Excuse me? Is this a figure of speech? Remember that WTF light? Blinking like crazy right about now. What I Should Have Done: walked right over there and planted my Chuck Taylor hard in his scrotum. I'd get away with it too---see me here all respectable and mom-like with my briefcase and lunch bag? What I Did Do, Inexplicably: yelled "ASSHOLE, YOU COULDN'T RAPE A WAFFLE!" right before I got off the bus. You couldn't rape a waffle. Where did that come from? I am as puzzled as you.
This technique gives you total control over your descent, allowing you to pay out as much rope as you want. Those of a nervous constitution can shut their eyes and pootle inch by inch downwards in a flood of tears. The more free-spirited can run, jump or somersault down while tittering with glee.















When I saw the grey dress, I was reminded of the exact same flowers I used to make so of course I had to see if I could still remember how to do it because it's been a while. Like ages. I had quite a few false starts and dead ends but I got there in the end.