So I got my hair cut in a snow and ice storm. Felt like I was walking across the tundra to save my soul. In a dramatic girly kind of way I was. Believe me I have no delusions of anyone caring. Even if just for myself, getting my hair cut is a big deal. I've always had a deep connection to it especially the locks that frame my face. Something about seeing it in my peripheral view has been irrationally important to me ever since I was very young. Perhaps the slightest residual of culture left from my Indian blood. I've wanted a modern shaggy mullet, a style I dreamed up until if finally started showing itself on real sites. I got my little example pictures, strapped on my snow boots and marched over to Badlands, the bad ass hair salon complete with girl-power stylists. Hair styles used to stand for something in the way fashion could really mirror a time in society and culture.
The first thing people asked me afterwards is why did you do that?! Ugh.
Lately I get this closed in feeling, the way you feel in a crowded elevator or subway train...that you've been on for 10 years! As if any moment I could just start barking or trying to claw my way out. But I'm pretty quiet and reserved these days, which is annoying only to me. It's hard to express yourself in a society where after 50 you're expected to just shut up and go sit in a corner and watch. So how do I break free from these invisible shackles on my behavior and psyche? Society and the media really only cover my age group when we pass away. There is no template for where to go next if you did make it to this point. I just do what I'm told by the girl below.
Baked Shrimp foil packet
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Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?