“In know you’re used to having your butt licked by your mother.”

Ye behold an infamous overcast morning here on the tip of this island. Ive slurped down three cups of black gold thick and fragrant and am revelling in the twitches of over caffenation. Maybe its the weather, maybe its the coffee, maybe its the aftermath of yet another weekend doused in overindulgence that has left me with feelings of uncertainty and restlessness in my deepest recesses. My current situation leaves me trekking across the waters to the mainland whenever possible (so far its been three times this month.) and upon return home Im left wondering how much of myself Ive left planted there in the soils of the concrete jungle. Its like fresh purgatory where souls float free just bodiless heads meandering back and forth, bodiless with wings attached below their necks. When Im on the mainland its a short lived fleeting vacation of sorts and although enjoyable, its not home. Yet when I land back at the nest, although blessed with the comforts of familiarity, Im cursed with the impending desire to flee back to the metropolis. How long can this last? And how long can I keep my feet steadfast in opposing soils?

Todays speculation was brought on by a sudden urge to cut my hair. Sudden urges for change of appearance generally act as a warning signal for me of unease. Im of the opinion that when faced with challenges seeming overwhelming or general uncertainty sets in, us humans grasp on to something that we can control easily. Such as hairstyle, a new jacket, a manicure etc etc. A quick grasp at something to maybe subconsciously remind ourselves that we have control of our life when in reality we feel confused or unhappy. Just check out the emo punks sitting outside your local Mac store. Their tear stained eyeliner serves as a sort of false badge of admittance to a certain social group and pecking order. How much do you wanna bet that upon review of her grade five class picture, said Emo girl looked more of an outcast than Hermey the aspiring Dentist Elf cast away to the island of lost toys? In the past this situation has led me straight to the hairdye section in shoppers drug mart at 10pm and left me with hideous bluish black hair not unlike Veronica from Archie comics.


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