I got my haircut. I look like a soccer mom. I would post a picture, but then it's available on the Internet for ever and ever, and that just won't do since blackmail is similarly timeless.
Doing something that requires original thought and a mild time commitment each and every day is a quick way to hatch resentment. Practice makes perfect? No. It makes exasperated, creatively empty individuals who feel as if they're going no where.
The End.
I ALWAYS agonize over haircuts. i haven't hacked mine off since my last big breakup, and i'm so used to it being long that even three or four inches nearly kills me. i have to take deep breaths and repeat that it is only hair before i go to the salon.
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