I've had my hair for all my life. For the most part, I've hid behind it, and I have a feeling it fed my unhealthy self-image/personal issues. I never take very good care of it. My dad used to call it a rat's nest. My hair-neglect issues also helped form who I am. I never cared about my appearances because of it, and so I never spent lots of money on clothing I would soon outgrow; in that respect, it was a positive influence. However... it formed me, the child. I'm now sixteen (still a child, but hey, let me dream.) To continue to live a life dictated by the machinations of childhood is unhealthy for those around me and unhealthy for me. I have always been carrying around my hair, for better or for worse. Hell, I was even BORN with my hair. It shaped my face as I shaped my world, in a manner of speaking.

Last summer, I cut my hair. About 10 inches of it and then some, so that it was a little bit shorter than Haruka's. It is to this event which I sincerely attribute the following incidents: Last year, my sophmore year of highschool, I "bloomed", and I don't mean in the upper torso area. I came out of my shell, and while my grades weren't significantly better, my teachers saw a difference in me. I was happier. I was able to act more like myself, grow how I wanted to. Getting rid of the majority of my hair didn't exactly enable me to mature, so to speak, but it allowed me to... awaken. Open my eyes to the world, start searching for whatever would make my life worth living. Healthy pruning to help the sapling grow up into a tall old oak with wrinkly skin.

Over the course of the school year, I slowly cut my hair shorter... and shorter... and shorter... until my classmates started worrying if I should ask the headmistress where I should put the limit (The school's handbook says no radical hair styles because they're STOOped.) The reactions of my peers was kind of amusing. At first they just brushed it off as me being the kooky weirdo that I am... But every once in a while, I caught them looking at me with admiration in my eyes, as if in my insane race to defy and reinvent myself I was carrying their own torch, too. Maybe I'm fooling myself on that part.

I came to the point where it couldn't get much shorter... I thought I was over, and that I would be destined to get a haircut every 3 weeks to prevent myself from looking like a puff-ball. Then a friend recalled the time I said I was going to shave my head for senior graduation. I was intrigued; very intrigued. Could I actually do it? Would I be able to handle it? If I shaved my head, would I regret it for the rest of my life, or maybe just until it grew out? Something that I was so attached to, even as little of it as I had... could I kiss it all goodbye and hope I was right in my assumptions that it would be the final milestone along my journey for freedom and happiness, atleast concerning my hair?

That's what I'm wondering. Should they... or can Jen & Scot even try to shear grep SailorMoon *? Is it too late? Has school already started, and the elite already formed too much of a presence to justify a clean shave? As if my vote counts... I say live life to the fullest. No explinations, no justifications. Corporate America says: Just do it. Corporate America says: Defy expectations. Corporate America says: Life is for passengers and for drivers. Drivers wanted.

Oh, by the way, unless you're a complete and total moron (just like me!), I finally shaved my head. (wouldn't that explain the idiotic user name (ihaveafuzzyhead)?) I'm well on my way to becoming either a mass-murdering sociopath or a bright burning light against the night sky of my generation.