My New Haircut
For most people, hair hasn't been an issue since the name “John Edwards” was socially and politically relevant for reasons that are now unknown. However, this is not the case for me, as my hair—as it tends to do from time to time—is starting to grow. Thus, I am yet again faced with the question of whether to get it cut in Carlisle or let it become extremely long and wait to get it cut until I'm back in Connecticut.
This probably shouldn't be such a big deal, but you have to understand that I have a very special connection with my barber at home. You see, I know absolutely nothing about the terminology which goes with getting a haircut. This was fine for the first few years of my life when my mom could just do all the talking and get me set up with what she called a “little boy haircut.” However, as the years went by and puberty hit, I started to realize that the “little boy” hairstyle wouldn't be appealing to girls as much as it would be appealing to pedophiles. Thus, I decided to take matters into my own hands and tell my barber what I wanted myself.
I knew it was going to be a glorious day as I walked up to the barber by myself for the first time. I was confident from the moment I sat down in the chair to a few seconds later when my barber asked me what I wanted to get, and I realized that I had no idea what to tell her. Luckily, I was able to think on my feet and make the tough decision to incoherently mumble something about making my hair look the same, only shorter. I then received a look that let me know I had no idea what I was talking about. It was around that time when we came to the understanding that I didn't know how to ask for a good haircut, so she would just give me one regardless of whatever idiocies I told her. After 15 years of this, I'm just not sure if I can develop this type of relationship with another barber.
So there is my predicament. I could wait to get a haircut until going back to Newtown and let it grow; I could get one in Carlisle with a barber who might not know that I have no idea what I'm talking about; or I could make the probably safe assumption there are, at most, three people here who really care that much about what my hair looks like. It's a very tough decision, especially considering the fact that my friend's mom once told me that my hair made me look like one of the 1967 Beatles, and you know what that means: 40 years ago, I would have looked exactly like every other suburban teenage male trying to imitate the style of what was currently the world's most popular band. In other words, I would have been awesome.
Unfortunately, it's not 1967 anymore, and, despite my best efforts, I was unable to enter into a relationship with my friend's mom, so even resembling a Beatle is, at best, a mixed blessing. Maybe the fact that I can't think of a good reason to get it cut or to not get it cut is a sign that it's time for me to stop worrying about such shallow and vain characteristics all the time. I am a college student, after all, so shouldn't I be using my liberal arts education to pursue matters more relevant and practical than just trying to look good, or at least to start applying for jobs in the constantly growing fast food industry? Of course I should! And you know what? I'm going to start right now! I am going to buckle down, work hard, and by the end of the week, I will have solved the mystery of figuring out who John Edwards is.