Trims and audible gossip.

"I've always believed that hair, really is a huge part of who a person is" quipped the twenty something next to me at the hair salon, or whatever there called. "I'm in trouble then" I whispered jokingly to Kayla, the girl who was cutting my hair. "What?" she said. "Oh, I was just being nosy, listening to the other people talk" "Oh, it's okay, eveyone in this place does it."
It was hard not too. They were very close, and I wasn't being much of a small talker.
The above quotation about hair, just like most things, probably has some validity to it, but I'm wanting to reject what she's saying. But the irony, of my cluttered life, and cluttered hair, getting trimmed at this moment, won't allow it. Just as the phrase "Clothes, make the man" which i thourghly reject, and despise, to a degree can make sense. Hair,in my defense, actually comes out of a human head though. Clothes just cover nakedness. They aren't connected to the body. I hate that textiles, haphazardly, or lovingly sewn together, can become a statement about me. I don't dig on the fashion industry.

I haven't had anyone cut my hair since september. Except for maybe Ben (mr. long dreads) this would be considered a long time. I don't really like my hair, or any haircut i've had, so I usually just let it grow until it start's getting overly obnoxious.
As I'm sitting in the chair, and the nice lady is trimming my neck, I can't help but notice the girl in the chair next to me is divulging her entire romantic "file" to her "nice lady" who is cutting her hair. I don't think they really know each other. I guess that's just what you do with your sylist. Share, very, very personnel problems. After the employment and "do you have plans this weekend" banter are out of the way, my "stylist" and I engage in a gripping discussion of the comedy of the hit film Anchorman. I think it's better this way for both of us. Stylist's are not psychologists, and there not even your friend most of the time, and yet everytime i'm getting a haircut, deep, agonizing personal stories are being shared mere inches away from me. I guess, for some people, a sylist, or hairdresser will do just as good a job listening as the cliche'd bartender who gets to hear of all humanities tragic, or magnificient love adventures. And I guess that's the point. The sylist will listen, just as this blog site listens to my ramblings in the ghosts of cyberspace. (and no, I'm not referring to you, lovely, humans who read this as ghosts.....you get the picture).