Cutting Loose

This weekend held two anomalies: one, I cut my hair, and two, I went to the bar - twice.

The first had to do with nearing a year away from Wilmywood (next Monday) and feeling like my long hair was strangely tied to the hardships of the last twelve months: Booker dying, the panic attacks, the second thoughts, the loneliness, Ronnie's death. About two weeks ago, I decided it was time to cut it. Time to let those inches go - and let the things associated with my longer locks go as well. So yesterday, I went to Corey and told him to cut it - really cut it - and that I trusted him to do what he thought best. The result: a fabulous, fabulous new style. And a slightly refreshed outlook on life. It's amazing what exposing your neck will do for you. Photos soon...

The second - bar trips two nights in a row - had to do with Justin being in town for his MBA class reunion. He and Eva told me I'd spent too many Friday nights watching "What Not to Wear" and that it was time to find something to wear and hit the town. So I did. I spent Friday and Saturday evening in the international company of Justin's friends from grad school: a Portuguese, a German, two Indians, an Israeli, and a couple of Americans for good measure.

And last night, standing in the bar between the German and the Portuguese and trying to explain the phrase "junk in the trunk" while bouncing a little to the bar music, sipping a Cosmo and rocking my new haircut, a night out turned into a step forward - a refreshed look, physically and mentally. A few moments that seemed normal in a hopelessly abnormal time in life. A sense of confidence about where I am and where I'm going, when it was easy to laugh and easy to walk down the street on the way back to the car, and feel that good in my own skin.