hairstory

today i cut off the rest of my hair. the highlights are gone, as are, perhaps, any traces of my personality. shari called me her most brave client. i said it's a razor thin line between brave and crazy. she insists i didn't cross it - i'm not so sure. but i'm not sure i give a shit, either. this simple mousey brown helmet will soon be a mess-o-curls once more. the 'do ain't so short that i'll get mistaken for a chemo patient, but not too long that it looks like the unfortunate result of some kind of scissor-wielding self-inflicted rage. whatever. maybe i just wasn't enjoying the confused, misguided bedfro. maybe i just...

someone suggested recently that i'm obsessed with my hair, and i balked on the inside. not because i'm the least superficial person i know, but because the notion is so off-mark. if obsession indeed be at play here, maybe it has to do with wanting to feel something different. feel something. what is this feeling, anyways?