Sunday, January 30, 2011

So Long, Long Hair, So Long!

For the past few days I've been having fever. And the worst part is it was on the night of my birthday that the fever started. It kept on for a couple of days, the fever swelling through my neck. Then one day my mom told me something that would change my life forever (or for the rest of the semester).

"You need to have your hair cut."

It seemed like time and space contradicted each other and I was drawn into the resulting black hole from the collapse of the laws of physics. It seemed like all religious foundations in which nations all over the world had been found had come into total discrepancy. It seemed like the mores and norms, the taboos and folkways of the modern mainstream societies had vanished, causing our world to go back to barbarism and pillaging. In other words:

I didn't want to have the haircut.

"What does it have to do with my fever?" I questioned

"Well, you look more sick with that type of hairdo. And also it looks...itchy."

"It's ugly?"

"Yeah. It's ugly."

Mom was not the first person to hate my do. Mom would be a part of the army of millions dedicated to convincing Asher to have his hair shortened. Mentioning a few members of the said army would be siblings, classmates, professors, friends, and church mates. They had formed a fellowship that aims for the reduction of the follicular production on my head.

Their day of victory has finally come.

I had my haircut last Saturday evening. And I did not have any regrets.

There was a reason I sported a long do. I wanted to at least separate myself from the bland oatmeal that was my school, where everyone needed to conform with everything, from the type of music to the fashion statement to the general opinion on the significance of Snooki's chest cramps to environmentalism. I wanted to be a little bit different. I wanted to be dissimilar.

I guess that college phase really had to end some time.

I now have short hair. Well, actually it's not very short, but I think I'll keep this for the remainder of my college days. I will sure miss the hair that, as Willow Smith puts it, may be whipped back and forth.

*photo was google searched

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Over-reviewing sucks!

I hate this day. I spent the whole night last night reviewing for a quiz that involves cranial and spinal nerves. Then, the day for the quiz came, I ate my breakfast and lunch, drank milk, and ate a banana, to energize myself with starch. Finally, the hour of judgement came, and lo, I was judged most tremendously.

Questions. No, interrogations chewed me up the very moment I glanced upon the test paper, and all that was on my mind was "I knew I read this, I friggin' read this somewhere in the book. I even saw a GIF animation of it on the internet, but I cannot remember the name of these hanging things below the pointy thing." After the quiz, I reminisced on the valuable evening I spent  shoving notes down my nasal cavity. I cursed the memory, together with the banana and its freaking starch.

 Maybe I over-reviewed, which is something I usually do whenever the Hale-Bopp comet passes by our planet. I experienced perhaps what laymen call the "mental block". Whatever happened gave disappointment that brought about this thought: What if instead of reviewing the functions of the oculomotor nerve last night, I reviewed more important, significant things, like:

1. Zombie Apocalypse Cosmetology:The science of applying make-up on yourself so that you can pretend to be a zombie and the undead won't lay a finger on you.
2. Internet Marketing Strategies: The proper way of spamming Facebook walls and forums.
3. Popular Adolescent Literary Creations: Writing the next "Twilight".

Now these topics might have given me much more benefit than knowing about preganglionic neurons. But no, I gave up on these significant subjects to give time to remember what the hanging things below the pointy thing were called. And the sad thing was, I remembered it seconds after I passed my paper. Cauda Equina! I knew it sounded something like Megan Fox...or not. 

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