unambiguous

I am twenty. I've barely gotten my fingers around the transient sphere we call free will.

And I need my independence like I need water. (emotional and physical.)

grow a pair

A haircut always feels like a fresh start, even though I'm fully aware it'll revert back to the slightly-too-long, slightly-too-flat shape that tempts me to fidget with hairpins all day. Immediately afterward, I was worried it was too short and too square, but with a little styling and a lot less product it feels better. The longest pieces, in front of my ears, are about jaw length. It's less tapered toward the back than you'd see on a haircut model or something, but there's definitely an angle in there that I actually really like. Most of the back is way too short for a flat-iron, which can only be a good thing. The bangs are deeply annoying, as usual, but I like them this time--even after a full summer day they've retained their shape and not gotten clumpy.

It's a daring cut, I guess, in a town overflowing with perfectly styled back-length hair and ugg boots. It's even sort of daring on campus. Relatively, though, it feels sort of tame. I think that's some sort of compromise on my part, what with being with P and having this office job, and I don't like it. I don't think I like who it all makes me. I think I'm having that problem again where...my inside doesn't match my outside. I don't look like "myself" and I certainly don't sound like myself in any kind of real conversation. Fuck.

Okay. Hacking off the hair again should be my impetus to follow my other instincts a little more. Note to self: this means doing more than saying "dammit stop texting me" and ignoring certain people's messages for another ten minutes. This means confrontation, possibly. At least more than I usually like.

And I guess I'll clean my room, since it's becoming what someone once called a floordrobe. (Who was that?) It's more clean laundry baskets and crates than actual filled drawers.

I have to get started on my research, and not lose steam.

I should order textbooks for cheap online. (Okay, this is a banal to-do list because I don't want to think about what I really should do.)

Which would be: stop talking about Vegas with certain people. Either stop thinking about certain people, or grow some ovaries and talk to them. Start investing that thousand dollars, and absolutely don't spend all my money this summer. Keep that promise to myself to learn to skateboard, once it stops being 85 degrees as a low. Ask for that raise and performance review. Stop being intimidated by my cube neighbor, because she actually seems like she might be nice.

In short, get some ovaries again. I seem to have lost them.