Microwaves and Haircuts
Every single time that I use a microwave -and that's five in total, I half expect it to explode. The whole process is unnatural! There are absolutely no indications that the meal is being heated. To me, the microwave is doing nothing except turning the plate in a circular manner. I believe no one would put their meal in a microwave if not for that yellow light. It makes all the difference. When it turns on, suddenly the microwave feels warm and cozy instead of some alien technology that wants to blow my meal up.
...
I cut my hair by myself now. I've had it with those barbers! They don't seem to posses the ability we call listening. No matter what I say, they cut the way they're used to. The result never, in my experience, resembled my initial descriptions about how I wanted my hair to look like when I walk out of the shop. After tiresome struggles and hopeless attempts of constantly changing my barbers in search of the barber of my dreams -and it's really hard, you know, walking into a barbershop and telling a complete stranger to cut your hair- I finally gave up. How naive I was to have believed that there was a barber who would understand me. I see it now. The cruel reality of existence and the tragedy of an innocent boy whose only dream was to find the barber of his life...
That's right, I gave up. I began to enter a random barbershop whenever the need arised and in the pitch-black darkness of hopelessness only these two sentences would came out of my mouth:
"Just use the machine. Cut it short."
This went on for a while. Until I started to grow(?) my hair. And boy, were those the good days! No need to go to the barber! This paradise lasted for one and a half year. When I decided to cut my hair, a friend recommended what's supposed to be a good barber. But I told my friend: "I ain't going to no barber!" If you had long hair and decided to cut it, you know how it feels. It's an extremely emotional experience. And thus the days of my barbership began.
It may not be the smartest decision of my life though. It's been like two months since my self haircut and every time I look at the mirror I feel the need to make some arrengements and I do. Little chunks of hair is sacrificed each time I get my hands on a scissors to retrieve the long-gone symmetry that once dwelled upon my head. Little did I appreciate the days of the past. The days where I was only a little boy and didn't bear the burdens that I do now...
...
I cut my hair by myself now. I've had it with those barbers! They don't seem to posses the ability we call listening. No matter what I say, they cut the way they're used to. The result never, in my experience, resembled my initial descriptions about how I wanted my hair to look like when I walk out of the shop. After tiresome struggles and hopeless attempts of constantly changing my barbers in search of the barber of my dreams -and it's really hard, you know, walking into a barbershop and telling a complete stranger to cut your hair- I finally gave up. How naive I was to have believed that there was a barber who would understand me. I see it now. The cruel reality of existence and the tragedy of an innocent boy whose only dream was to find the barber of his life...
That's right, I gave up. I began to enter a random barbershop whenever the need arised and in the pitch-black darkness of hopelessness only these two sentences would came out of my mouth:
"Just use the machine. Cut it short."
This went on for a while. Until I started to grow(?) my hair. And boy, were those the good days! No need to go to the barber! This paradise lasted for one and a half year. When I decided to cut my hair, a friend recommended what's supposed to be a good barber. But I told my friend: "I ain't going to no barber!" If you had long hair and decided to cut it, you know how it feels. It's an extremely emotional experience. And thus the days of my barbership began.
It may not be the smartest decision of my life though. It's been like two months since my self haircut and every time I look at the mirror I feel the need to make some arrengements and I do. Little chunks of hair is sacrificed each time I get my hands on a scissors to retrieve the long-gone symmetry that once dwelled upon my head. Little did I appreciate the days of the past. The days where I was only a little boy and didn't bear the burdens that I do now...
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