Do you ever just desperately need a change? In middle school I got a terrible haircut (it was a bad time for my tresses) and my dearest friend Scooter laughed at me and asked, “Oh my God, did you cut that yourself?” I think I kicked his shin in response – that seems like something I’d do at 12. Actually, my mom had paid a “stylist” at Supercuts, and the result was bangs that ended about two inches above my eyebrows. Like I said, a bad, bad time.
Lately that ennui I mentioned in my last post had me itching for a change. I decided wanted a haircut and I wanted it the second the thought entered my mind. Patience is not a virtue of mine, so I grabbed some dull office scissors and went straight for the bangs. When B. noticed me, he jumped up yelling, “What are you doing? Stop!” The wise man knew I was going to regret trying to give myself a haircut and, perhaps more importantly, that he would be the one to hear my whining until the damage grew out. He’s a keeper, that one.
I still felt like I needed a change, so I started fiddling with my blog instead. An ugly style sheet is much easier to fix than an ugly haircut. The blog has been in a state of disarray for the last week, especially in regard to a title. Having grown tired of my whit-icisms (see? so lame) and blatant Nabokov theft, I just could not come up with a new name. Finally, this morning, I came up with something on which I think I can settle: Notes from the Darkroom.
Notes because writing is what I like to do, darkroom because it’s where I like to be, and homage to Dostoyevsky (i.e. Notes from Underground) because Russian literature is what I love to read. It’s kind of perfect, but then again, I’ll probably hate it in a week. To be determined…
