Hairy issues on my mind

I dreamt last night that I flew into a teenage-rebellious rage and took scissors to my hair. Except I couldn't find a pair sharp enough to cut through my thick hair, and I opened drawer after drawer, testing out each pair I found and getting more incensed as each proved as effective as trying to gnaw my hair short. Finally, I find scissors that snip through hair cleanly and begin cutting away, handful by handful.

As I am losing all of that pesky hair, it begins to dawn on me what I'm doing, and I suddenly panic at my impulsive decision. I think I might've started crying, or screaming, or something, at that point. But I'm pretty sure I continued snipping away. After all, now that I'd started, I couldn't very well stop.

And after that the scene slipped away into some other, more forgettable dreamscape, and I'm surprised I even remember that particular segment. I guess I have had haircuts on my mind a lot recently. To trim, to cut, or to shave? Decisions, decisions, decisions. A part of me wants to hack off all my hair, which currently reaches the small of my back. I could then donate it to Locks of Love, for instance.

And a part of me has gotten too attached to the river of hair to consider more than a neat trim to get rid of split ends.

I don't know, though...a change could do me good. And I've wanted to shave my head for awhile. I wonder what I would look like with a buzzcut? Or maybe I could go for a pixie look...

Irked

On the list of All Things that Annoy Me, what must surely hold a position in the top three is lateness, either in myself or others. So, I sit here writing this on the floor of the hall outside a classroom, having waited 20 minutes now to collect some materials from a higher-upper. Why, exactly, he isn't here yet is unknown, but with each passing minute I am growing increasingly more frustrated.

I suppose there may be a valid reason for the lateness, but it is still particularly uncomfortable having to wait in this dimly lit hallway, with the prospect of free food just outside my grasp in another building. And I think we all know the way free food calls to the college student.

Well, 22 minutes now, and no signs of life. They will find my skeleton in this position in a few years, still waiting ever so patiently for this guy to show up, even as my hunger eats away at me from the inside out. And my dusty laptop still atop my legs, my e-mail program up in anticipation of a reason, or a hope.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh