Bar keep, another Mekong, please.

Water.

I don't know what it is about vast quantities of water, but it's very calming to me. It soothes my soul, refreshes me spirit. Maybe it's because I was born in Minnesota and was around water all the time, or maybe it's because I'm thirsty a lot, or maybe it's because you don't need to speak to feel like it understands you... but water comforts me. It allows me to reflect. It helps me. Over spring break, it was the ocean that allowed me to purge myself of everything that was bothering me and give me a fresher start. Tonight, it was Lake Mary.

It gets to a point where I feel like I'm full on an emotional level, like anything else I start to feel ends up somewhere and I never actually feel it, I get stuck. Usually, and unfortunately, I get stuck in a not so great emotional state, and the good emotions I should be feeling are those that are pushed to the side, that I become blinded to. At this point, I stop being me. I look the same, I smell the same, I even relatively act the same... but inside, I don't feel the same. I feel like I need to hit an emotional reset button on my life and start again.

It turns out water is my emotional reset.

Just being able to look out into a vast environment of peace, a place without skyscrapers, without subways... without people. It allows me to let go of those things that accumulate in my mind like dust accumulating in an Ionic Breeze Quadra. All of the things that have been bothering me over the last couple of months have been dragged to the external hard drive for safe keeping, so I can reflect on and remember them without having to worry about running out of disk space. I'm still the same person, same morals, same values, same likes and dislikes... and now, inside, I feel the same again.

So, thank you Lake Mary. And if anyone reading this is having problems dealing with any sort of emotional stress, my only suggestion would be... find your water.

Haircut.

Much like the blog's title implies, I got a haircut today.

I walked on over to the nearby Great Clips, over on University and Milton by the Flame Broiler, and asked for a haircut. The lady took down my name (Jeoff, apparently) and phone number, and told me it would be a few minutes. I took a seat and picked up a copy of Ebony magazine. Fantastic read.

A few minutes later, my name was called. I stepped on over to a nearby chair when the lady asked, "how do you want it?"

"Oh, you know," I said, "like, a 3 on the sides and back, and about an inch on top."

"Would you like the back rounded or squared?"

"Um... could you make the corners round, and the bottom straight?"

So she began to work, but something was odd. She had sat me facing one of the flag things that separate each chair. Strange, I thought, I wonder if she's going to face me towards the mirror?

But she didn't she just kept on cutting, Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry" playing on the radio.

"Oh, you know, I haven't heard this song in a long time," came the voice of one of the ladies cutting hair across the room. "Do you ever hear a song that makes you thing of a certain time?"

"What, like, 'oh, this song makes me thing of 2:00' or something?" came the... rather annoying voice of another lady cutting hair next to her.

"No, silly, like a certain time in your life!"

Then I realized something. The woman cutting my hair hadn't said a word since she started cutting. I started paying attention to what she was doing. Each cut she made was so precise, as if she planned out which hairs she was going to cut with each snip.

Fergie's ranting came to an end, and The Cure's "Friday I'm In Love" came on. I just sat and listened while my barber worked on. It was really refreshing to just relax while this woman chopped away the hair i had so painstakingly grown myself. I let myself sit there and listened to the radio.

"Look down."

The first words she had said to me since she started, coming forth at the end of Sophie Hawkins "As I Lay Me Down". I complied, and she recommenced cutting. OneRepublic's "Stop and Stare" came on, and I began listening to the other women cutting hair. I realized how nice it was not having a conversation during my haircut. Don't get me wrong, I love conversing, and it's always nice to have a pleasant conversation with someone who's just trying to get through the day at their work. However, it was nice to be free from questions like "what do you do?" and "how are things going?", both of which require more than just a sentence or two and usually need concentration to really listen. This may make me an ass, but I'd much rather they be focused on cutting my hair. I wouldn't want to go into a restaurant and have the chef talking to me instead of making my food, that's what they're getting paid to do. And I'm sure your life is frustrating, but I really don't want to hear about the Vegas trip you took with your "wild" sister.

I just felt like she actually cared about my hair. That, sure, this is just her job, but it was a job she wanted to do well. I felt like I didn't have to care about what it was going to look like, that it would turn out great. I could just sit back and let her take care of it, while I waded through thoughts of everything I had to get done before this school year was over. She was relieving me of worry and stress that I really didn't need right then.

It wasn't until the end of "Suddenly I See" by KT Tunstall that I realized I had been sitting in silence for 5 whole songs while this woman was cutting my hair. Just as the Counting Crows' "Mr. Jones" started, she turned me toward the mirror for the first time. I was greeted with one of the best haircuts I've ever had. She brushed me off, took me over to the register, and I paid.

"Thank you," she said.

"No, thank you," I replied.

Biggest tip I've ever left for a haircut.

Confidence.

When you walk with your head down, you can see where you're stepping.

When you walk with your head up, you can see where you're going.

Mind Boggling... or... Bloggling... No, Boggling

Boggling is a strange word.

So I sit in my Educational Psychology class, fairly bored. I try to pay attention, I really do. But for some reason, my mind wanders, and wanders, and eventually just falls out of my head. I seem to think of the most random things when I'm in classes that can't seem to keep my short attention span.

So today, as I pondered, weak and weary, my mind stumbled across something that I had never really considered before, and it BLEW MY MIND.

Disclaimer: If you disagree with whatever I say... I don't care. Keep it to yourself.

I'm not a Star Trek fan, so I really know squat about it. It's Wars all the way for this Jedi Knight. However, and don't correct me if I'm wrong, I do know enough about Star Trek to know that they use a coordinate system for their space travel.

A coordinate system. In space.

If you can't follow what is so boggling about that to me, coordinate systems run off of reference points, and cardinal directions.

The Starship Enterprise is in SPACE. The Final Frontier. Infinity. How on earth can one plot a coordinate somewhere in infinite space? That's what blows my mind, is that in infinite space the crew can navigate using coordinates. I don't know if they use two or three coordinates in the show, but you'd have to use three in space. The earth, and this is me going against all popular scientific belief, is flat to an extent. Sure, it's the form of a globe and all sides connect to one another, but while you're standing on the ground and you look out across a vast expanse, it appears flat. Flat enough that you only need two coordinates to find something. But this is space... there is no direction. Nothing is set to a standard. You can't tell someone to go north for two miles, because there is no north is space. And you couldn't use earth for reference, at least in Star Trek, because there are presumably thousands of races on planets not yet discovered, and they'd probably want to all be on the same page when it comes to giving directions, and honestly, who would pick earth to be the center of the universe, besides some of us. So everyone in the universe, or everyone with the technology for space travel, would have to get together, not fight over stupid shit with blasters or whatever, and set a spot. I really don't see it as a possibility.

Well, I googled that shit, and apparently they use a stellar coordinate based on the positions of the stars in each galactic sector, or something like that. Whatever. Take all the mystery out of life. Jerks.

What a pointless rant. Thanks for reading.

The Pointlessness of Blogging

I don't think pointlessness is a word, but that shant hinder me from what I am going to say.

Blogging seems pointless. At least from my perspective. I write a blog to express feelings that are not necessarily meant for anyone but me to read. On the other hand... I don't care who reads them, otherwise I wouldn't post them on the interweb.

So why write them? Why not just open up a word document, type out what I'm thinking, and keep it hidden away on my hard drive?

Because there's no point. The internet is just... there. There to allow people to express their ideas that are not necessarily meant for anyone but them to read. The internet is unbiased, and doesn't single out people and segregate them into groups of who can write and who can't.

As a friend of mine, Dylan, so wisely pointed out to me... people like to be heard. He observed that, while you can write in a word document all you want, you're only talking to yourself. And even if you're talking to yourself in a blog... it doesn't feel like it. It's nice to know that someone out there might hear you, and possibly relate.

So, while I think in some respects it's rather pointless... I enjoy it.

And therefore will continue to do it.

So there.

Thanks, Blogspot!

So, apparently Blogger/Blogspot has determined that my last blog was indeed not spam... so it's now working again. Instead of having two blogs, I'm just going to repost the two articles I wrote onto this blog... so if you haven't already read them, enjoy them for the first time.

What do I make of this?

I sat down with a flower.

I picked off the petals, one by one.

"She loves me. She loves me not."

This kept me occupied for a few minutes.

I drew toward the end of my count.

The last two petals came off together.

What does that mean?

Does she love me?

Does she... not?