4 × 3
Today is just a four-day week. In my state we have Friday and Monday off, because it’s Good Friday and Easter over the weekend, through to Easter Monday. I am completely looking forward to this weekend because I really need to catch up on some work, reading my favourite blogs (/cry), and just having a break from university and work in large blobs. You have nooooooo idea.
I can’t really say I’m stressed, to be honest. I haven’t felt upset, or cried, or bothered, or wanted to scream at someone. Actually, maybe I have felt like screaming at someone, but it’s usually dissipated in a matter of minutes. Right now, I’m a little miffed at home-things – you know, parents, family, all that jazz. Mainly my mum not really dropping conversations past their use-by date. Sometimes she brings up things we’ve talked about and, truth be told, I don’t like that very much. Some things should be left in the dirt, where they were buried in the first place. Also, no one likes being reminded of the past sometimes. It doesn’t matter who you are or how you relate to the situation.
In this instance, let’s take my annoying hair. It’s thick, it can’t withstand a curl, it’s brown, it’s getting longer, it’s growing, it’s not really in need of a cut but it’s in need of a style. This is the thing I hate about hair and haircuts. I’m indecisive, I suck, I often hate my hair not long after I’ve cut it, then see an older photo of myself and miss the haircut I had before. Really stupid, really idiotic. By not withstanding a curl – I mean, I use the hottest setting on hot rollers, a curling iron, or a straightener, and my hair will not stay curly. Not even wavy. Also, I’m not getting a perm, no way.
For fourteen years of my life my hair was long and thin and went right down to my knees. Every day it was beautifully French braided. I can’t tell you how sick I got of it. I was sick of my French braids, alright, but I wasn’t sick of my hair. One day my mum decided to let me have my hair cut and coloured. I totally loved my awesome new hair. It had highlights, and was long, and pretty, and I had that haircut for maybe about a year. Ouch. After that year, I cut it into a shoulder-length sort of bob. I looked a bit hardcore, maybe. It suited my mildly punk look then, before I went punk? Hmm.
I found myself wanting long hair after that. I have to say that last year, getting hair like Ramona Flowers was really an idiotic thing to do, especially since I don’t get my hair cut much. I don’t know why haircuts for girls are so expensive. So slack, man – my dad gets $5 haircuts sometimes. However, recently, my mum made a new friend who owns a salon and her prices are pretty affordable. Affordable meaning we can go there every six weeks instead of visiting the bloody hairdresser once a year. My hair shall hopefully no longer suffer.
Well, it hasn’t suffered in the past year, really, but I guess I just want to make sure I make the right decision. (Tell that to my mum, she’ll flip. She thinks I don’t think I made bad choices.) I think maybe, since I had that hair for fourteen years, I’ll go back to keeping it long. So I’ll just get long layers, keep my fringe tolerable, and you know, be that bad chick and colour it red. 👊
I totally can’t wait until the four-day weekend. I will totally catch up on everything, just you watch me. And then, and then… next week will only have four days of work too. I like it, I like it. It’s like having a weekend the same duration as not only the work week before – but the work week after it. AHEE! 😁