Oct 27 2004
extreme makeover: hair edition
Well. As I said earlier today to my friend Angus, I choose to solve existential crises by changing my hair. So tonight I went and had a licensed professional (who also happens to be my aunt) cut off at least a foot of my hair. I think more than a foot. A lot, anyway. It hasn’t been this short since I was ten and was growing out the ill-advised boy cut, though I must say that I feel much better about my hair now, since it in no way resembles a mullet. (And I know I promised that I was going to get a mullet, so, apologies, but you know, I’m a lying jerk.)
Anyway, what of my hair and the existential crisis? Well, as I have said before, my hair is a raging communist. It has all these ideas about the way things should be, ideas that contrast radically with the status quo and often leave me looking like Roseanne Roseannadanna, except with more frizz. Because you know, nothing fights the power like frizz. Yeah. Take that, The Man.
As for existential crisis, well, I’m in my mid twenties, so I guess it stands to reason that I’d be in the throes of one. And getting a haircut solves this by taking my hair, which was previously long, and making it shorter. Duh.
And… okay, fuck it. I’ve got nothing here. I’m going to get up tomorrow and still have no clue what I’m doing or where my life is going or why I’m frustrated and restless and all those things that I’m sick of writing about and even more sick of feeling.
But you know? It’s okay. Because my hair looks really good.
