QuaterLife Crisis

I just cut my hair short and striped it red.
the last time i had short hair was in primary sch i think?

theoretically i didn't do a Britney.
I just wanted a trim but the hairdresser insisted i cut my hair short.
maybe she's the one with a more severe quarterlife crisis.
(she did just cut and colored her waist-long black hair into really short blonde hair)

she was so enthusiastic about playing with my hair, i gave in.

some of my colleagues thought it looked neater, while others weren't so enthusiastic.
it made me look fatter i think.
i agree with them all.
so i went back to get my red stripe.
and i'm really happy with my hair now.

I love the red stripe.
just one stripe, so it's not overpowering. but it's there, so i don't look so p6 anymore.

YC says i always mess with my hair whenever i get stressed.
"is it?"
"yeah! everytime after exams you'll get your hair done!"

(i met up with henry right after my haircut.
the first thing he asked, in all earnestest, was "how come you look like you came from Tibet?"
i could have boxed him)

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the other reason why i like my short hair is because it's a symbol of change.
i've become very disillusioned with a lot of things lately.
and now i'm trying to focus on other things.

it may be right, it may be wrong, i dunno.

i hate it that singapore has such a small room for "error".
once you start on a path, it's a lot harder to jump onto another path, compared to the US.

so every major decision has some sort of fatality feel to it.
if you get out, you can never get back again.

oh well.

i'm still not quite right yet.
maybe at the end of the "crisis" i'd look in the mirror and think "what the hell happened?"
For now i'm getting excited over my new toys,
the mascara and the eyeliner.
might as well go for the gothic look huh.

emo! emo!

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This is a good story:

I'm sitting is a quiet room at the Millcroft Inn, a peaceful little place hidden back among the pine trees about an hour out of Toronto. It's just past noon, late July, and I'm listening to the desperate sounds of a life-or-death struggle going on just a few feet away.

There's a small fly burning out the last of its short life's energies in a futile attempt to fly through the glass of the windowpane.

The whining wings tell the poignant story of the fly's strategy— try harder.
But it's not working.

The frenzied effort offers no hope for survival. Ironically, the struggle is part of the trap. It is impossible for the fly to try hard enough to succeed at breaking through the glass. Nevertheless, this little insect has staked its life on reaching its goal through raw effort and determination.

This fly is doomed. It will die there on the windowsill.

Across the room, ten steps away, the door is open. Ten seconds of flying time and this small creature could reach the outside world it seeks. With only a fraction of the effort now being wasted, it could be free of this self-imposed trap. The breakthrough possibility is there. It would be so easy.

Why doesn't the fly try another approach, something dramatically different? How did it get so locked in on the idea that this particular route, and determined effort, offers the most promise for success? What logic is there in continuing until death, to seek a breakthrough with "more of the same? "

No doubt this approach makes sense to the fly. Regrettably, it's an idea that will kill.

"Trying harder" isn't necessarily the solution to achieving more. It may not offer any real promise for getting what you want out of life. Sometimes, in fact, it's a big part of the problem. If you stake your hopes for a breakthrough on trying harder than ever, you may kill your chances for success.

— Price Pritchett, Ph.D.

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On a brighter note,
i stumbled upon "The Secret" book at Popular.

The Secret is simply:
Ask,Believe, Receive.

I love my red stripe of hair.