In my previous post I have mentioned how I am currently struggling to define each day through productive fulfillment as opposed to selfish satisfaction. I'm doing better, by the way.. Thank God.
On a lighter note, I have noticed that recently a day will not pass until somebody, nobody in particular, but SOMEBODY, would stop and ask me, "Are you getting a haircut soon?"
Well, let's see. The last time this black mop on my head had professional attention was when I was still on the other side of the Pacific. It was cut by a fat lady who owned this salon (could somebody tell me the guy term for it?) that accomodated customers by reservation. Big shout out to my brothers (and sister) for this, and the other good times.
By the way, you may go to my Friendster account and look for the picture with the caption about the night before Christmas; Please rate the fat lady's work...
...Because the quality is gone. My hair has not been touched by scissors since then - It's covering my ears and my nape. For lack of knowledge of what to use to make it look nice and neat, it is currently treated daily with a small amount of dollar-store pomade ('What a bargain!'). And it's also brushed and combed. When I remember to.
Brent, why are we talking about your hair?
Look at it this way. I can keep growing it, combing and brushing and pomading (?) it along the way, thus making it look barely presentable. Or, I can just have it cut and make it look clean or basically better to the public eye.
It sounds like what's currently going on at work, when it comes to the quality of my work as a quality analyst (couldn't help it, sorry). Nowadays it seems like I'd rather just comb, brush and pomade my work as opposed to doing a nice, neat cut. I'm in that unfortunate level of applying quick fixes just to get by.
Which, one would like to think, is perfectly normal. If I thought it was acceptable then I wouldn't be talking about this, and you would probably be reading the lyrics of Sunlight by Michael Tomlinson (by the way, if somebody can tell me where to find his acoustic version of this song, I'll give him or her a Malteser).
Problem is, that mentality that I could do better is still so distinct in applauding me when a thought or an accomplishment defying the norm by rising above it through uniqueness (?) or plain superiority is completed - or mercilessly berating me when an average or ultimately normal job is done.
It keeps disturbing me with every day that passes with more pomade than scissor cuts.
Then again, when I think about it, I don't do my own haircuts. This a sign that I need help?
I hear God's a good barber.