The "Cool" Haircut

You are only as "cool" as you a)live up to in your daily life, and b)think you are. The subjectivity of "cool" bears little influence on the act or portrayal or motions of cool; cool is usually decided after the act either by steely, hard liquor drinking juries of jaded, resigned folks, the lost, or a gabbering gaggle of after-the-fact'ers chattering to hear the chatter.

How cool is your "cool"?

This post is not going how I planned it and therefore it is fitting in perfectly with my point: cool is felt as well.

Do you feel good about the things you did today? Yeah, it was cool.

How was the date? It was cool.

Has your artwork being going well? Yeah, things are cool.

These answers, though vague, are truly heartfelt and positive. Why would you say your date the other night was cool if it wasn't? You wouldn't. You'd say "we had fun" or "good food, bad breath" or something like that. Cool wasn't even in the equation because overall the night wasn't very cool, not like the cool that was hoped for from the adventure.

Now, cool is false confidence too. Taking the side of the late-chirper chorus I've personally witnessed numerous displays of complete UNcoolness going on in some clown who KNOWS that they are "cool". And that is pretty hilarious. Unfortunately I was that clown today.

I got a haircut the other day and it significantly altered folks' perception of my appearance. In the workplace is the most amplified setting to reflect a cross-sampling of your new look. So, I've had folks looking at me a little differently, some smiling and some just looking.

I waltzed in work this morning, big smile on my face and spanky-new dippty-do hair thing going on, and pretty much knew I was cool. So cool was I that I didn't even worry about "cool". I pass some ladies and they smile real big and say good morning. Wow! Folks have really been nice to me this morning!

I remembered the Marta bus driver who just kept talking to me this morning; I thought of those on the train that suddenly, and very oddly, struck up conversations on the commute into town; then there was those people in the elevator that seemed to be in a good mood, usually the elevator is so moody and quiet.

I just shrugged and felt cool, going to get my next cup of coffee in the breakroom. The morning folks had smiles on their faces for me and I just smiled back. Darn amazing, this haircut! I head back to my desk, more hellos and smiles, and get to work.

Second cup of coffee down, my bladder begins to lament from the liquid burden. I head to the bathroom, walk up to the urinal and go to unzip. Funny, the zipper is already down. OH MAN! Seems I've had it down all throughout the commute, through the sidewalks of my work, the security guard ladies, the ride up to the 15th floor, and 2 honkin' cup of coffee trips through the breakroom. Hey everyone, here's my PP! Come look!! Watch me forget about my PP from, like, 2 hours ago!!!!

Not very cool at all.