Green hair, don't care

I’ve got a confession to make – I’m a known hair color junky.

Yes that’s right, my hair has to be colorful, green, red, pink, purple or grey. I cannot live without my colorful hair.

But having colorful hair isn’t easy from time to time (and from time to time means basically almost always)

I don’t know what’s wrong with the thing we call society, but looking “not normal” is a huge deal to it. It starts with people shouting on the street “Oh my god, she has *insert color here* hair”, which is something you can ignore most of the time. It’s getting harder when old people ask you “do you have a job with that kind of hair” (really? No, I don’t because having green hair killed all my brain cells…) and it just goes on and on.

This is not meant to be first-world-problem complaining. It’s the question why can’t people do what their want to do and more import why can’t people look the way they want without been given a hard time from strangers.

I mean I like it when people come to me and tell me that my hair looks cool and stuff, but I can’t stand it when people come and want to touch my hair (whyyyyy?) or look at my hair critically to tell me that my hair looks damaged. Do they go to every fake blond in town and look at their hair? Probably not!

Work situation’s not brilliant as well. From colleagues who ask me every two weeks “when will you dye your hair a normal color” to those who ask every 3 days if I’ve changed my hair color and me answering “No I just washed them” (and sounding like the grossest human being ever for having to mention that I washed my hair like it was something I don’t do to often) to getting weird looks from bosses.

But despite all of that I will continue having green or other crazy colored hair. Because I like it and I think in the 21th century you should be able to do the things you like and look the way you like to.

Afraid of being human

Here we are again, on the hunt for the most useless first-world-problem we can find. 

 

Maybe it’s a generation’s thing. The generation unproductive, the generation inactive, sitting in front of their smartphones and forget about life in general.

This describes my life better than it should. I am the person who has to force herself to stop checking other people’s facebook statues by deleting the app. And most of the time I’m annoyed by those statues and as a result I am annoyed of myself for wanting to read those brain destroying thought of other people. 

 

But that leads us to the main problem of my short existence. I am afraid of being a human being (does this even make any sense?)

I am that one person reading about all the thoughts of the so called normal person and shaking my head about their bloody human thoughts, knowing that if I had those thoughts I rather drown my phone in the toilette than posting them online. (This counts double because my phone is brand new and purple! Hello, it’s purple!!!) 

My inability to act as a normal human is getting so ridiculous that if I get drunk, I am not ashamed the next morning for singing 20 terrible songs (happened) or for falling flat on my face (happened) or for powersliding through a crowd of people because I slipped on a beer puddle (happened). No, I am ashamed if I told people my inner thoughts. That doesn’t even contain embarrassing “I still love you” to silly ex-boyfriends, but it starts with telling friends I feel like crap from time to time as well as telling people I would like us to be friends. I mean not that there weren’t enough really embarrassing things happening to people at parties like that guy that couldn’t keep his pants up (buy a belt!) or the girl telling 20 strangers that that one guy stood her up. Well then why am I embarrassed about talking to people that I normally wouldn’t talk to?

I am on the hunt for the solution for my own first-world-problem. If I found one, I’ll let the world know. Until then, I’ll probably get weirder by the second.