so, i had some things to say about the damsel, instead i spent much of my afternoon about two pixels from an insect's armpit. damsel flies. of course.
sitting here thinking the shade of the hairdye drip on my arm is a good sign, much darker than the box. because i picked an entirely inadvisable color to go over the faded outgrown red i had. & honestly, i know better. the choice i made could be construed as a deliberate attempt to have a hair disaster, thereby necessitating extreme corrective measures.
sometimes the only way i can manage to change is to fuckup in some spectacular fashion so that the choice is taken out of my hands. it's like some reverse failsafe switch in my head -- when my indecision keeps my wavering on the side of whiny overcaution for too long, there will come a time when the reckless hedonist within gets fed up. picture tooling along at 20 in a 25 zone & suddenly jumping out of the car. go ahead, run the scene though your mind, professional stuntperson & all -- it's more exciting than picturing me sitting here with cheap medium blonde hair dye doing god knows what to the entirely wrong hair i just put it on. the larger metaphor for the way i escape suffocating stagnation in my life? we'll pretend it's just hair.
