"A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life."
-- Coco Chanel
We took our project into the living room, among the cheap vinyl and faux-wood couches of our pre-furnished apartment; the light here was stronger than that in the cavern bathroom. My hair was dry, which probably made some type of difference. We decided on a thick, straight, blunt bang, solid hair across my forehead, above my eyes. Scrunching my eyes shut tight, for protection, she slowly snipped the strands of hair, hands and fingers manipulating the scissors in an unsure but steady confidence. Occasionally growing long and cumbersome from my delinquency in grooming, the bangs have, essentially, been my staple style ever since that evening at university, mildly bored with one of my best friends, when an idle discussion about a new hair cut turned into action. I have not changed since; sometimes, the hair is longer, the layers or the angles more dramatically trimmed, but the same general shape, same feel, ultimately maintained.
I have never taken a true risk, a risk of the magnitude that create icons, whether heroic or tragic, a risk where success means an empire, a legacy, when coupled with a healthy dose of chance and hard work, a heavy dose of passion and dedication. A woman, like Coco, does not become a bit of history, without such willingness and openness to catalyzing her own change. I am not seeking to become a grand historical figure, but to make impact, to build something beyond the ordinary, against the grain, to instigate some greater downstream effect from one's own contained sense of self, there must be some risk, some impetus for uncertainty. Despite an intellectual and philosophical curiosity, fear of the unknown, fear of failure, of some crash and burn from which I cannot recover, keep me fettered to a known and tried path, to habit and comfort. This quality in myself, this fear or lack of courage, as a type of meta-problem, is a quality I want to change and cannot seem to.
(image taken from Visionary Artistry Magazine)