The title suggests a connection between the two which I'm not about to demonstrate. There probably is some kind of tenuous link...mostly I've just thought to write a wee bit about both, but neither's hugemongous enough for its own post. Though once I get started on punctuation you never know where I might finish up...
I have, over the last year or so, by way of a number of haircuts, gotten myself a hairstyle, which I think might actually suit me. I'm still working on some finer points, but it is, all in all, falling the right way. For most of my early life my mum cut my hair, which was fine, but meant I developed a fear of hairdressers. They all seemed so cool, and pretty and fashionable. I was not any of these things. I realise I'm paying them lots of money for a service, but I'm still worried I'm not cool enough. That I'd really need to dress up to fit in, to know some kind of hairstyle related description, some of the secret hair language, or a celebrity I wanted to look like. I don't know celebrities, the only ones who spring to mind when thinking about hair are Little My from the moomins, Hey Arnold(though I think he's more head than hair, and Princess Leia from Starwars - I could confidently say, "do not make me look like any of these people!" but I suspect they might need more guidance.
And so, over the years, I have been collecting intelligence. When I vaguely mumble and make choppy gestures with my fingers I listen to what they say, banking the terms for my next visit - choppy, feathered, shaped, layered. I'd, fearfully, gone for "Just tidied up a bit" for a few haircuts, then felt a little disappointed in myself when I came out looking exactly the same. I spent the obligatory time drying and straightening for nights out, swishing and swooshing, trying different products, mousses, hairspray, magic oomph...who knows what else...it largely looked about the same, not very exciting. II tried dying it, but every time realised I liked my own colour better and waited for it to wash out.
Then, one momentous day, I uttered a word I had known for a while, not one I'd picked up in the hairdressers, one I'd never thought I would use. The f-word. "Uhh...maybe...maybe, I thought I might, if you think it would suit me...I don't really know but, maybe what about a bit of a fringe?" A side fringe? No...like an actual across your head eyebrow tickler fringe.
And so it was. And still is. I now (mostly) have to take some care of my hair, by way of drying it in the right direction, though it is fine to just leave it, it drives in a fairly non-nonsensical way. I still tell some lies at the hairdresser - how do you normally wear it? Uhh...just like straight I suppose (or wet, part dried by my car heaters then scrunchled on top of my head. What products do you use? Oh...normally Aussie stuff, not much though (or, shampoo...and quite often conditioner.). I have also recently broken out of my book your next appointment cycle too, which I realised was detrimental to my plans of growing hair. So I shall leave it a while, maybe go for a fringe trim in between (obviously this will involved outfit planning and hair-doing before attendance, lest they refuse...). My words of choice for next time - "dry cut trim please"...I'll let you know how I get on.
And so we come to punctuation. I don't like to be too much of a grammar/punctuation/written english nazi, the odd out of place apostrophe doesn't really annoy me, lots of people have trouble with apostrophes. And commas - they are my very best punctuation friend, full stops and I are a little estranged, except the little triplet ones. I use them far too often. I failed an english writing exam once for using too many commas, in something I'd written about conversation, the same year we were studying stream of consciousness technique in a book with about 1 full stop in the whole 100 pages. Approximately. I didn't actually read the book, so couldn't say exactly, but you get the idea. It is obviously not something that weighs heavily on my mind now.
The punctuation that really gets me, that makes me want to not cry, but be physically violent, is the inappropriate exclamation mark. With every extra unnecessary one like another little stab in the eardrum as I feel the person shouting at me. Or jumping up and down, waving their arms, breathlessly exclaiming. I hate it. I had to temper my hatred a little in the not too distant past, or I should maybe say my hatred was tempered, as it snuck up on me somewhat. Or, it snuck up on me!!!! When I first started the modern day courting correspondence of facebook messaging and texts with my now peerie viking, there were many unnecessary exclamation marks. The first I saw it I mentally noted it, but soon I stopped noticing them, and now he uses them less often. My senses were clearly clouded by some kind of affection...the exclamation marks were like bouncy, excitable, labrador puppy marks, not yuppy, inflected, self-centred, knobber marks. Unfortunately this effect only seems to work with him, exclamations from all other corners of the globe irk me. Or get my goat (?) which, if it's right, is a saying I might start using more often. Probably not followed by exclamation marks, because I don't ordinarily shout in people's faces, so why would I write like that? I suppose it may well be representative of how some people do speak, maybe they are giving a warning - "I'll probably shout in your face!!! Cos I'm so excited!! And loud LOL!!! You'll probably hate me!! Stay away!!!" Like a warning bell. Maybe I should be grateful.
On a lighter note I think my favourite punctuation misuse is inappropriate quotation marks. My favourite find of these so far, was the mystical door at uni which bore the sign:
'In order for the door to keep "revolving" please keep "walking" '
I loved that sign. Even better when acted out with bunny ear gestures, try it for yourself.
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