Hair Color, Existentialism, and Lax Punctuation (All Before Coffee)

I am a restless beast. Fact.

Proof positive:  I started (and stopped. and started.) this post in my head, on paper (screen?), in daydreams and moody musings no less than 23 times before deciding that the best place to start was with a single letter (I). I. I? I can’t commit. I can’t decide. I can’t. Feel trapped. (I can barely decide on punctuation. Obviously)

But! (aahh this must be the point where I learn something) at some point I decided to be an accountable (lie. Read: flighty) adult (lie. Read: imp) and realized that I don’t so much need to act on every instance of insane whim, rather I simple NEED (NEED) the option to flip. Reinvent. Escape. (Run Away? …I think not.)

Though it would be seemingly easy to classify me as an overindulged example of my generation’s proclivity to ummm. Want. Everything. Now. I prefer to selfishly classify myself as an explorer, adventure, pirate, (fairy?) in so much as I have nothing (NOTHING) to run away from, rather I live in constant fear that I will miss something. Anything. Everything.

I’m not Alice down the rabbit hole. I’m that stupid cameo obsessed rabbit: terrified of time. And that? Explains everything. Everything! My paragraphs fat with parenthesis? I don’t want a single thought to go unexplored. My itinerary double (lie. Quadruple) booked? I can’t say no to a single experience. Must. Have. Them. All. My hair masquerading as a horse of a different color?

Ah yes, my hair.   250 words ago this was going to be a short ditty about my penchant for Clairol. I wanted nothing more than to make fun of myself about my ever-changing mane and instead wandered into philosophical musings about the nature of time and a life unfulfilled. That sounds maddeningly status quo.

In a moment of movie-worthy timing my boss just yelled out of his office wondering nothing more than why (why!?) is my hair always changing color, shape, and form?

Yes, sir!? Back on track: hair color. My solution to feeling stagnant. My remedy for my constant restlessness. I am so often amused with merely changing coifs rather than say, moving cross country. If I had not discovered how freeing it was to be able to take on an entire new persona thanks to the contents of one box of dye, I would surely have crisscrossed the globe in living locals by now. Hmmmm. Written in print the idea of living in foreign countries, different states, or igloos sounds much more appealing than staying put while my hair has all the fun.

But the reality is that: it’s complicated. If I was alone, I wouldn’t think twice about jumping on a boat (a plane! A car! A bike!) and leaving today’s existence behind. But I’m (blessedly!) not alone. I have a partner I adore (hmmm. Perhaps I can commit), a family that drives me just crazy enough, and a life and job that I seriously don’t hate. And hair color, a $10 dollar box (lie: $110 salon appointment), allows me to appreciate the things I have while feeling free of the gilded cage I am so wary of.

Damn! Existential musings again!

Back on track: here’s the long and short of it: while the name of my blog may one day be a misnomer, for the moment, I am having a maddeningly passionate love affair with red. I’m obsessed. I want to stay this fiery and fabulous forever (but I can’t say my mind didn’t entertain ideas of cheating on Auburn with Kristen Stewart-esque black. :: Le sigh::). But my commitment to a specific color makes me wonder what the repercussions in my non-follicularly-obsessed life will be.

Will I suddenly go stir crazy without my ability to change shades (and by proxy, lives?)

Full disclosure: If I wake up tomorrow and have a sudden urge to move to Seattle and become a pop-folk singer that subsists on coffee and cigarettes alone, I cannot be blamed.

Edit: I must really work in movieland- as if on cue, as I lean to press ‘publish’ my boss, Don Draper, and Roger Sterling exit a closed door meeting.

“Bye, redhead!” Don says. “See you next time.”

“Ha! By that time she won’t be a redhead!” Roger quips .

They meet everyday.

Job of the Day: Doula


~ by rubylocks on November 11, 2009.

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