I am shaving my head and moving to Boston
Both of the above statements are true.
I kinda wish I hadn't started telling people about the hair, because it's already a hard enough decision without everyone telling me not to do it. But c'mon friends, I can't start a new life with my old life's hair. That's coiffure infidelity! Shed the past, start anew. I think that's the way the rastas do it, too.
I've already let three friends cut off a dread each, so I have three less dreadlocks than before. I carry one around in my hat so that randomly during conversations I can reach up into my hat, grab one end of it, and after much strain and exertion I pretend to rip it out by the roots. If you see me doing this, just pretend you didn't read this and act surprised.
It's scary, to be honest, and for some reason quite lonely, which is odd because I'm moving up there with a friend. I think the loneliness comes from knowing that I'm leaving a lot of close friends and deep relationships and striking out onto a new frontier where nobody knows my name. I walk down the street and miss everything I see. I'll miss downtown. I'll miss the way they turn the traffic lights off at midnight. I'll miss walking into any restaurant downtown and having the wait staff know my name. Etc etc etc. I'm sure you can imagine what it's like. If I keep on describing it I'll just make myself sad.
I'll post pictures of my hairless head after it happens. I know a lot people never knew me pre-dreadlocks, which is almost mind boggling for me, since I've not had dreadlocks most of my life, or, that is to say, I've had not dreadlocks mostly. I guess not everyone has known me as long as I've known me. It seems obvious enough, but it's easy for me to forget that.
The whole situation is leaving me a little forlorn, which is unfortunate, since I'd rather not be forlorn if I had my way. It's a tumultuous time for ol' DW, so feel free hang out with me if you want. Bring me going away presents. Let go of old grudges. Bake me cookies. Kiss me full on the lips. Humor me when I do the rip-out-the-dreadlock trick, since I'll have no idea if you've read this or not. That sort of thing.
Lots o'love,
Doug
I kinda wish I hadn't started telling people about the hair, because it's already a hard enough decision without everyone telling me not to do it. But c'mon friends, I can't start a new life with my old life's hair. That's coiffure infidelity! Shed the past, start anew. I think that's the way the rastas do it, too.
I've already let three friends cut off a dread each, so I have three less dreadlocks than before. I carry one around in my hat so that randomly during conversations I can reach up into my hat, grab one end of it, and after much strain and exertion I pretend to rip it out by the roots. If you see me doing this, just pretend you didn't read this and act surprised.
It's scary, to be honest, and for some reason quite lonely, which is odd because I'm moving up there with a friend. I think the loneliness comes from knowing that I'm leaving a lot of close friends and deep relationships and striking out onto a new frontier where nobody knows my name. I walk down the street and miss everything I see. I'll miss downtown. I'll miss the way they turn the traffic lights off at midnight. I'll miss walking into any restaurant downtown and having the wait staff know my name. Etc etc etc. I'm sure you can imagine what it's like. If I keep on describing it I'll just make myself sad.
I'll post pictures of my hairless head after it happens. I know a lot people never knew me pre-dreadlocks, which is almost mind boggling for me, since I've not had dreadlocks most of my life, or, that is to say, I've had not dreadlocks mostly. I guess not everyone has known me as long as I've known me. It seems obvious enough, but it's easy for me to forget that.
The whole situation is leaving me a little forlorn, which is unfortunate, since I'd rather not be forlorn if I had my way. It's a tumultuous time for ol' DW, so feel free hang out with me if you want. Bring me going away presents. Let go of old grudges. Bake me cookies. Kiss me full on the lips. Humor me when I do the rip-out-the-dreadlock trick, since I'll have no idea if you've read this or not. That sort of thing.
Lots o'love,
Doug