Baaaaa!

Have you ever felt the blood thrumming through your fingertips? Have you ever felt the weight of the breath in your lungs? Have you ever felt alive? And I mean really alive. We as a people conform willingly, go into our cocoons of monotony, and let the seasons pass us by as we refuse to change into what we could become.

We need to wake up and experience the life we’ve been given. Otherwise the exhilaration of simply being able to breathe is lost. I am not suggesting you high tail it to Everest or attempt some death-defying stunt to get your juices going. Something small, some minor deviation from your normal routine will do.

Personally I’ve been nestled in my cocoon, fooling myself into believing that I have already left it. But lately I’ve been noticing how drab my life has become. Not from lack of interesting things around me. I am involved in the musical, and am constantly busy with my workload from school. But when the noise stops, when the dust settles, when it is just me, myself, and the mouse in my pocket I feel numb.

What this boils down to is I am dissatisfied with my life. I am involved, yes, but I am not experiencing. I think I stopped experiencing a long time ago. Emotions are fleeting, drama gets downplayed, crises are easily averted. I have been trying to build a magnificent glorious house with no foundation.

I find myself simply going through the motions of what I want life to be. I shop. I go to parties. I dance. I crack jokes. I read. I write. I shop. I go to parties. I dance. I crack jokes. I read. I write. Around and around so much that I’ve worn down a circuit of sameness in the hearty rug of life. I am bored with me.

A simple example is personal style. I have had the same haircut for the past six or seven years. You have probably seen a million of me—mid-length, straight hair, parted slightly to the side. It’s real low maintenance. It’s classic. I suppose that’s why I have kept it this way for so long. I know it looks good. More importantly I know it’s safe.

Mind you, I don’t think a classic look is bad. It was the sameness that got to me. It made me itch. I like the idea of being an individual, of not being just another sheep. The more I saw the sameness staring at me from the bathroom mirror, the more my hair seemed like wool. It was time for me to get sheared.

I knew it when I woke up this morning. The itching sensation was too much. I was going to change. I was going to break out of my safe cocoon. I was going to stop the sameness. I gave some vague warning to my mother as I headed out for my appointment at Silano Milano. For those of you who don’t know me I dye my hair Platinum blonde, and go in every four to six weeks for touchups (dying my hair this shade of blonde has also gone on for six or seven years but has never contributed to the sense of sameness because not many people have hair brighter than a streetlight).

My stylist, Kathy, is without doubt one of the most individual personalities on this planet. She has deep chestnut hair highlighted golden blonde that falls straight to her waist with arching bangs. She always wears bright pink lipstick and smoky eye shadow. I would steal her wardrobe if I could. When I came in this morning she was wearing a Halloween themed Frankenstein t-shirt, black leggings, and knee high leather boots. The t-shirt was ironic considering she was about to make a monster out of my ego.

At first I was scared to leave my comfort zone and change the style that had been sufficient for most of my life. I shyly explained what I thought I wanted. Kathy nodded along enthusiastically, asked me a couple of questions, and started cutting. I screwed my eyes shut, breathing slowly, trying not to panic. I opened my eyes not two minutes later to see the pile of hair in my lap. If a pale person can pale then I did.

I looked in the mirror and could hardly recognize myself. No sameness here. I now have bangs. Shaggy, poofy, blonde bangs. To a girl that has snootily sworn on a few saints that she will never have bangs this is a big deal. It may not seem like that big of a deal, it’s such a small thing really, but that is exactly my point.

I didn’t have to go bungee jumping or sky diving to experience something new and pivotal in my life. It is a baby step to be sure, but a small step that has made me feel alive. I feel electrified. Everything seems shiny and new. I have deviated from a long-standing pattern and discovered how free it all feels. I still want to do the same things. I just see them as opportunities to make other changes. I see them through bang tinged eyes.