inedible passions. tasty little braindump.

So I swallowed some courage and got my hair cropped in such a way that I’m forced to mess around with it more.

I think a lot of what impedes creativity has to do with laziness and self-doubt. It’s liberating to be thrust into creative activity itself, struggle to keep afloat, and then ease into the ebb and flow of it. It’s so easy to be paralyzed into overthinking, especially when you’ve been on some form of medication, but I digress.

Also, not being too tied up with familial and (stupid) societal obligations is freeing. I probably would have never got a haircut that is connected with the punk subculture if I still lived in MNL. I may not be as social as I’d like here in YVR, but I do appreciate less stares and I do feel comfortable with my sassy, absurd [hair]style, to do as I please minus unsolicited criticism from conservative people. I’ve never really fit in anywhere, always feeling like an ugly duckling freak of nature, so it’s refreshing to wear my awkwardness on my sleeve.

And besides, hair is just hair.