Brewing over...

There is a thing with me when it comes to haircuts. I enjoy them, terribly so. They are usually got done when things are awfully wrong with me-like a synonym to my bad mood, they have been with me since long.

But I don’t wanna blabber about this, but wonder loud about the whole thought process that usually gets through whenever I’m getting my haircut done. I have usually wondered what if the person giving me the haircut could read my thoughts. I can’t say if it’s a phobia or a stupid illusion of mine, but this thing always blocks my mind whenever I’m in the hot-seat.

And I candidly reveal my innermost thoughts there and then. I actually try telling the stranger all that I can, all that I wouldn’t say to anyone else in the world. And then as they show me the mirror to reflect upon my hair style, I want to question them-if they have understood what lies beneath it? Isn’t it more important than a style that would go out of fashion, the length which would grow itself in sometime or could be cut short at the snap of the scissors any minute?

If only I could, make them understand…If only they could read what’s in my mind!!!

Coffee thoughts

"I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

—Harry, When Harry Met Sally.

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