It's all about Trust.
I thought of my mate bskewl last week. One might suggest that if that was to happen then it must have been the direst of situations :-) Well, it could have turned out to be. I was getting a haircut when I suddenly remembered his experience with a disobedient barber in the boonies of Ohio.
I, on the other hand, had asked for it. Was walking around Milan, having been refused (well, they were actually full) access to The Last Supper, when I spotted a funky hair salon. I figured if I can't afford any of the designer duds, I might as well walk around with some Milan style on my head. And, so I walked in, and they spoke English, and pretty soon I was decked out in what seemed like three layers of color-coordinated gowns. Only problem was that only the receptionist spoke English. So, I'm sitting there and I 'think' i told my 'stylista' what I wanted done - something along the lines of you're the artist, show me your art - but was pretty sure it didn't translate at all. I vaguely remember making some hand movements at the back of my head etc which was all she probably noticed. I've also been told that some of our more primitive body language like yes or no mean the opposites in different cultures.
All of those thoughts, and some more, came to mind as soon as a snip of the scissors dropped the length of my hair from i-can-chew-it to above-the-eyebrows in one fell swoop. Not quite the buzz-cut that the barbers of ohio acquainted bskewl with, but nonetheless. Of course I really couldn't tell her anything, which I suspect had less to do with my inability to speak Italian than with an unwillingness to see her oh-so-cute smile turn to a frown :-) So, I decided to chill and see what turns out.
I don't know. I don't even think I check in the mirror anymore. Probably because I don't really like it, but I feel like the fact that I have a 'Milan' haircut over-rides what it looks like. They've got to know what they're doing right. They're the gurus of style.
Come to think of it, it's kinda fucked up. Not unlike going to business school. Will I show up at Chicago and expect it not to be what I wished for? Or worse, be not what I want. And, will I, then resort to walking around feeling summarily good about being associated with Chicago?
I'll have to wait and see. For now, am busy with getting paperwork ready for my Visa interview this friday. I had a kinda nervous moment last night - what if my visa is rejected? All this work of two years applying etcetera ... Good thoughts, Good thoughts.
Caught up on the blogs today and I see that the folks at the other schools have started to arrive on campuses and some have started pre-term and others are pre-pre-term partying. Here's wishing all of y'all a good time for the next two years.
Off I go to fill out the DS-157.
I, on the other hand, had asked for it. Was walking around Milan, having been refused (well, they were actually full) access to The Last Supper, when I spotted a funky hair salon. I figured if I can't afford any of the designer duds, I might as well walk around with some Milan style on my head. And, so I walked in, and they spoke English, and pretty soon I was decked out in what seemed like three layers of color-coordinated gowns. Only problem was that only the receptionist spoke English. So, I'm sitting there and I 'think' i told my 'stylista' what I wanted done - something along the lines of you're the artist, show me your art - but was pretty sure it didn't translate at all. I vaguely remember making some hand movements at the back of my head etc which was all she probably noticed. I've also been told that some of our more primitive body language like yes or no mean the opposites in different cultures.
All of those thoughts, and some more, came to mind as soon as a snip of the scissors dropped the length of my hair from i-can-chew-it to above-the-eyebrows in one fell swoop. Not quite the buzz-cut that the barbers of ohio acquainted bskewl with, but nonetheless. Of course I really couldn't tell her anything, which I suspect had less to do with my inability to speak Italian than with an unwillingness to see her oh-so-cute smile turn to a frown :-) So, I decided to chill and see what turns out.
I don't know. I don't even think I check in the mirror anymore. Probably because I don't really like it, but I feel like the fact that I have a 'Milan' haircut over-rides what it looks like. They've got to know what they're doing right. They're the gurus of style.
Come to think of it, it's kinda fucked up. Not unlike going to business school. Will I show up at Chicago and expect it not to be what I wished for? Or worse, be not what I want. And, will I, then resort to walking around feeling summarily good about being associated with Chicago?
I'll have to wait and see. For now, am busy with getting paperwork ready for my Visa interview this friday. I had a kinda nervous moment last night - what if my visa is rejected? All this work of two years applying etcetera ... Good thoughts, Good thoughts.
Caught up on the blogs today and I see that the folks at the other schools have started to arrive on campuses and some have started pre-term and others are pre-pre-term partying. Here's wishing all of y'all a good time for the next two years.
Off I go to fill out the DS-157.
1 Comments:
This was great too read
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