Almost Cut My Hair

Almost Cut My Hair

06.16.04 (9:51 am)   [edit]
Well, actually I did cut it. I just like bringing up David Crosby songs. If you don't know what song I'm talking about, what the hell is wrong with you? Go buy a copy of CSNY's Deja Vu NOW.

Two nights ago, I did something silly. I looked in the mirror, said to myself "dammit, I'm sick of these stupid tangles", and grabbed a pair of scissors, pulled my pony tail back, and hacked off a rather big chunk of hair. When I was done, I looked like I'd been attacked by Edward Scissorhands after he downed a couple fifths of Jack.

OK, not that bad. But I went to a Great Clips (where the two women were wearing these weird black poncho things that make them look like Hogwarts students) .and had the girl finish me off. So now I look like...uh, a guy who needs a haircut. I had her get the remaining tangle out, cut the back as long as it could be left, then cut the sides a bit shorter. I wanted it at least kinda long, because I fully intend to grow it all back. She did exactly what I told her to do, but now the hair on the sides poof out too much, and I look even more like The World's Ugliest Woman than I did before. I've seen women with hair like what I have now. And they sometimes look good. I, however, do not. Fuck it, I've got a hat to wear until it grows to a decent length.

This happened because, due to my ongoing fight with depression, I've done fuck-all to take care of my hair, and there were these big stupid tangles that were too much of a pain in the ass to undo and I know damn good and well that they'll be back since I probably won't do any better of a job brushing the stuff than I've been since two and a half years ago - the last time I chopped it down in a moment of insanity. I've done this three times now.

The first time was the night a girlfriend left me. This was three years before I met Sheryl. I was out of my mind and taking myself entirely too seriously (yeah, that never happens) and spent the night with a bad haircut, recording a completely psychotic version of Nilsson's You're Breaking My Heart. It's kinda hard to cry like you've been stabbed in the heart by a lying evil whore (which she wasn't, I was just out of my mind, veering rapidly from wanting to kill her and knowing damn good and well that it was my fault, which it was and let there be no doubt about it) and laugh uncontrollably like a mad scientist at the same time. I did it pretty well, though. With a shitty self-inflicted haircut. You shoulda seen the look on the faces of the guys in my band when I showed up for a gig the next night rambling about "She left me! Isn't that great! Yeah, that's fucking great! She left me! HA! Isn't that just fuckin' great? Hey, can I do a Nilsson song by myself between sets?"

The last time I took my hair for a ride, I had not one, but two wonderful women, and they weren't leaving. Katie was five months old, and I was out of my mind, not because of her, but because I felt that I couldn't possibly be a good father to her and do the other things with my life I wanted to do at the same time. I'm still working through this one, but that day was especially intense, wondering what I had done to deserve a beautiful, bright little daughter, and how she possibly could ever do anything to deserve a shitty daddy like me. I don't think I'm a shitty daddy anymore. But I still think she got the raw end of the deal.

So in a weird frenzy, I cut my hair off. That's two times I've done it while clinically insane. This week, I'm almost in a good mood, I just don't want to deal with seven inch long, two-inch thick tangles. So that's progress. I guess.

God, I look like an ass. Where's that hat? I don't want the people on the CD covers strewn across the floor in this room seeing my hair right now, let alone alive ones on the street. Shit! I'm taking myself too seriosuly again! Somebody stop me!

I first started growing my hair after I left college. I'd let it get shaggy before, but I didn't really try anything more. When I first got it shoulder length, it kinda looked like shit, until I discovered that blowdrying did wonders for me. I looked COOL! For once in my life. There certainly isn't anything else on me that looks cool, so this was a good thing. Then I took a job where I had to cut my hair, and that was the end of that for a few years.

It hadn't totally occurred to me until after I'd grown it that having long hair did more than make me look like the bitchin' 70s-rock bass player I imagine myself to be. It also was a great way to piss people off. I knew that in the environment I was in (central Indiana, surrounded by people who think the Eagles are heavy metal, and you just know that all those people in California are having anal sex with each other, and not even man-on-woman like the good Lord intended) long hair pretty much equated to BAD STUFF to people who still thought it was the 1950s. At least I was hanging out in a music store most of the time, with people who were obviously not that stupid. But some family members, and other good Christian folk I'd run into daily, were very wary of me and any long-hairs I might be with at the moment.

I'll admit it - I found this downright liberating. I know there's more than a touch of the juvenille to this, but I take GREAT pleasure in making people uncomfortable whose values and life-guidelines I consider absurd and archaic, and if my grandmother thought I was going to turn into some heroin-craving metal-grinding hippe bastard who they'd find dead in an alley someday, why not help her out a little? She was convinced that I'd never find "a nice girl" with that hair and those clothes (my ridiculous T-shirt/sweatpants combo-pack being what it is), and guess what? She hasn't said nearly as much about what I look like since I came through her door one day with the hair, the clothes, and Sheryl. And ya know what? She likes my girl a lot. So do I. :)

But I like standing out, and I like having the hair. I walk a very fine line between knowing that it doesn't mean much at all, and feeling like I'm saying Something Really Important To The World by having long hair. It's kinda silly to say, but that's rock & roll for you. Learn to thrive on that serious/stupid combination. It's good for you. And I still get odd looks, not just back in Indiana when I stop to get gas at some little redneck station, but even here in the second-fastest growing town in Ohio, populated by lots and lots of very clean, nicely trimmed white professionals, many of whom are about my age. It seems everyone here is between the ages of 28 and 47, or the children of them.

Even in 2004, I still don't see a lot of guys with the kind of hair I had two nigths ago. People I could have gone to school with, grown into Responsible Citizens, driving their SUVs, buying low-carb fast food, and glancing suspiciously at the guy in sweatpants and hair half-way down his back. They're probably very nice people. Too bad they've allowed themselves to be bullshitted by a society that demands conformity, and requires unquestioning adherence to a set of social guidelines that says "Don't stand out, shut the fuck up and be a drone." There are places where you can get away with the hair. Shit, half the rednecks now have the hair. But I still find pleasure in walking into the grocery store with mine and seeing those freshly-scrubbed yuppies. Most of them are oblivious and don't give two fucks about anything other than buying their low-carb food and getting back to their SUVs. But it's fun to be in the produce section and see a little baby in a cart and say "Hi there, you little cutie!" and see the mother recoil in terror at the monster addressing her child, only to see my daughter with me. That confuses the FUCK out of them. I've seen more tight-lipped, fake smiles in the grocery store in the past three years than I've ever seen in my life. I think it's funny as fuck. And I'm gonna say hi to the kids, because it's also funny when THEY look at me like "What the fuck are you?" Hairy assholes like me aren't usually special guests on Barney shows. When the kid actuallly smiles back (sometimes they do), I feel really good.

So now I've got a stupid haircut and I'll have to wait about a year and a half to be truly scary again. (I'm lucky my hair grows so fast, some people can't ever get it that long, and I also enjoy hearing a cute hairdresser like the one who cut mine yesterday say "Wow, you have really nice hair. Beth! You should see this picture of this guy when his hair was long! Doesn't he have nice hair?" OK, I probably like it way too much. :) Hey, they aren't going to compliment me on anything ELSE. But anyway, I can't wait until I can once again sing this:

Almost cut my hair
It happened just the other day
It was gettin' kinda long
I coulda said it was in my way
But I didn't and I wonder why
I feel like letting my freak flag fly
Cause I feel like I owe it to someone

Must be because I had the flu for Christmas
And I'm not feeling up to par
It increases my paranoia
Like looking at my mirror and seeing a police car
But I'm not giving in an inch to fear
Cause I promised myself this year
I feel like I owe it to someone

When I finally get myself together
I'm going to get down in that sunny southern weather
And find a place inside to laugh
Separate the wheat from the chaff
I feel like I owe it to someone

"Almost Cut My Hair" by David Crosby. Go buy Deja Vu now. It's got other good stuff on it too.

Love,
Dougie