Today I got a haircut. It is funny the lengths to which a person will go to find people to interact with (no pun intended). So, now I look like a Stepford Wife. Normally, I would be a little more dismayed, but at this point, who cares if my hair does not match up with my self-image. Nothing else here does either. It almost seems appropriate--maybe I should buy a pearl necklace and some brightly colored cardigan sets and call it a day. 'Identity, I am just going to hang you up in the closet for a year. I will dust you off and put you back on when the time is right.' Perhaps I should change my name to Kitty? Thoughts?
There was one good thing that came from this absurd haircut--apparently, if I drive a short distance West, into the Virginia that we all envision when we think Virginia (farms, cowtipping, meat and potatoes, barns, horses, guit-ars and banjos), I will be able to find a bluegrass gathering on the first friday of the month. This is one of those gatherings where people come from their farms and their small towns and get together with relative strangers to jam. Yes! Music! People gathered! Characters! This is the most hopeful thing I have heard since I arrived here.
Hair will grow back--it was certainly worth a little hairloss if the bluegrass I discover there is good.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
can you post a picture of said haircut?
ReplyDelete