The Unfathomable Delirium An online repository of my informal writing

Today I went outside the house (hurrah for that) and went to school to take the very long and very tiring Editorial Board exam. Anyway, before I went home I dropped by the salon to finally have my stupid long hair cut. Usually, I just have my hair trimmed into a shorter version of it, but today I decided to take a little deviation. This is sounding a little gay.

I haven’t gone to the barber since I started college (that’s roughly two years now), and there’s a reason for that. This means that I have not felt an electric razor through my hair for a long time already. All those subtle trims on my hair and the almost non-changing hairstyle kind of suck now that I think about it.

So at the salon, I waited for about 30 minutes for my turn with the dude who cuts hair for the guys (there was only one person for that). When I was finally seated on that swivelling barber’s chair, I told the man that he use the razor on me, instead of just the usual comb and scissors. I thought I saw a hint of surprise on his face. Maybe he was surprised that I was at last taking control with my hairstyle—unlike in all other haircuts in the past where I simply asked him to make my hair shorter and let him do whatever he deemed necessary. It is also possible, though, that I was just hoping for an actual hint of surprise on his face. Yeah, I probably just made that up.

Believe it or not, that instruction—that “use the razor on me” bit—was the only thing I asked him to do. While working on my hair, he will indistinctly suggests specifics about the haircut I’d have and I would just nod, regardless of whatever he meant. This has been the drill for as long as I remember. My experience with the barber/hairstylist/hair-trimmer/man-who-works-at-the-salon is basically him cutting my hair into a style I might have asked without my knowledge. So there.

It actually felt nice when he was grazing the warm razor onto my head. I remember having a painfully short (and ugly) haircut in high school and getting a semi kalbo half the time I was in elementary. Although my new haircut is not even near to being semi kalbo, since the guy only used razor on the edges of my head, I still like it. I was actually feeling a bit giddy when I first touched it!

After the haircut we went into one of those fancy sinks that are apparently typical in salons, to have my hair shampooed. I was so glad about that, and I was really looking forward to that step in the process, because I did not shampoo my hair this morning when I took a bath and I also did not take a bath yesterday (so lazy to do it). Yes, I am very conscious when it comes to hygiene.

The result is a very strange haircut. My nephew called it ugly and my mother was equally appalled by it, saying “Anong nangyari sa buhok mo?” It’s alright, though, I rarely give a lot of fuck to how I look like, anyway. Also, I enjoy being back to having a rough hair (at least on the sides, heh).

That’s about it for this incredibly trivial blog post. How about you? Assuming you’re a guy, do you go to the salon to have your hair trimmed? Do you give actual distinctive instructions on how you want your hair done? Okay.

(I am actually really tired right now)