Freud would say...

I just woke from the weirdest dream.

I was sitting a French exam, and no more than ten minutes in, I decide with some urgency to go outside and take a call from my mother. She seemed upset, and proceeded to warn me of the perils of Jersey (Yes, the small comparatively sunny island in the Channel, not New Jersey with its semi-naked frolicking Guidos and Guidettes. Had it been the latter I could have quite understood her concern). The conversation got a bit heated, and despite her copious warnings I remained adamant I was still going....it was a graduation ceremony nonetheless!

So to the exam I returned, slightly frustrated at wasting so much time, only to sit down and realise that now there was a stack of papers, on my desk. Not just papers but an assortment of what can only be termed ‘things’. I proceeded to search for my answer sheet under the clutter. It couldn't be found. I raised my hand for help, and was told to start again. I didn't like their ‘advice’ so I decided to keep looking. The answer sheet just wasn't there, in fact now the question paper wasn't there. I signalled for help again, and was brought an Engineering paper (These dream invigilators are pretty incompetent you see). Taking matters into my own hands I decided to ask the surrounding students, all of whom had finished, for their question sheet. Success! Well of sorts...because I now realised all I had to write on was the inside of cereal boxes, and all I could think was: Is this allowed? Will I be marked down? Why am I sitting this paper, I don’t study French, and why on earth is there a band on the stage in an exam hall (Everyone else seems to be enjoying it, but it is quite distracting. Then again, the commotion of examiners and fellow pupils surrounding my desk to watch me scrawl my answers, was equally frustrating.)

Sometime between the disruption of the singing and the hypervigilence of the exam hall I woke up, and was left wondering,

What does it all mean?

Unknown Dangers

Aloha world, no I haven’t died, or been savaged by wild sheep in the nether regions of the Emerald Isle. I've just been busy…you know, getting lost exploring, ending up walking along the motorway, traversing two rivers, scaling two 10 ft fences, a railway, oh…and another fence. Yes my arrival in Ireland was pretty momentous.  So much so that it subsequently resulted in me losing my phone, and my house keys on the first day, summoning the help of a 60 year old woman to help me search for them, not finding the keys and attempting to persuade my previously unmet housemates to allow me to sleep on the couch for the night. Then of course there was that time that…, but I wouldn't want to bore you.

In other news I have come to the conclusion that my hair can actually be called long…well by gentlemanly standards anyway.  How I managed to come to such a conclusion I will set out in the following essay.

Hair: An Unknown Danger

Shedding

By far the most benign and certainly least frustrating of all the ‘Unknown Dangers’ is shedding, also known as finding hair in unwanted places. The most notable incidence or shedding occurs upon waking. Often an individual will awake in the morning wondering, as did the three bears, “Who’s been sleeping in my bed?” maybe Goldilocks has paid a visit. Unfortunately no such luck. I’m afraid the fact is, now that your hair has grown longer than two inches you shed like an Alsatian.

Another presentation of shedding is within consumables. On a daily basis, long haired individuals will manage to ingest a sizable portion of their tresses with whatever they are eating. It must be noted however that some individuals (who cannot be named for legal purposes) consider hair a condiment, that adds variety to a dish, and whilst I am uncertain of the nutritional value of keratin or any literature on recommended daily allowances, my present experience has found it most unpalatable.

Environmental

The environmental concerns are equally concerning. The first relates to knots. Yes, knots can occur in hair apparently and yes, they hurt. So one is required to brush their hair regularly to avoid such painful occurrences. Regrettably knots are also a product of the weather. Wind, whilst mystically causing a swirl of autumnal colour, does nothing for your luscious and well prepared locks. One swift blow could see your beautifully set curls, turn into a labyrinth of tangled fibres.  On the bright side, birds might lay their eggs there in the spring. One of the few solutions to this problem is the humble hat. Though hat wearers should be aware that use of a hat can lead to the environmental dilemma, flat hair. As such, once set in place, a hat should not be removed until one is safely in the confines of their own home.

Further quandary exists in the form of hair washing. Firstly there is the vast selection of shampoos and conditioners, or maybe 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner. Not to mention do I want my hair looking sleek and shiny, or with vitality and body, and what does that even mean?! Personally I select the cheapest one that doesn't say Tesco value. Then there is the rigmarole of deciding when to wash long hair, since it’s probably going to take 2 hours to dry. Whatever you decide you can be sure that the weather is certain to make you wish you had chosen otherwise.

Health Concerns

The third category represents a growing unmet medical need for people with long hair. Unbeknownst to our shorter hair counterparts there exist numerous potential health risks of having long locks. Some are obvious, such as the inevitable choking hazard posed by ingesting stray hairs, and as such will not be discussed further. However it should be noted that hair is a blunt weapon, and suitable precautions must be taken to avoid hair temporarily blinding an individual whilst showering. Likewise car doors also pose a potential health risk. Although attempting to drive with you hair shut in the door is not a criminal offense it can lead to accidents. Finally there is the sudden surprise that may awake you from sleeping, when your hair falls on your face and you mistake it for an 8-legged creature. Research has shown that the initial shock may or mat not cause a heart attack.

In conclusion many of the dangers inherent in growing hair long can be solved by simply tying hair back, but in order to prevent you looking like Fat Tony from the Italian Mafia, this should also be avoided if at all possible.

Acknowledgements:

Stories validated and confirmed by Nevada Hale who had long hair when she was 7 and maybe 24.

Joey Akubeze for his depth of knowledge surrounding Italian culture.

Kaitlyn Pieper for her culinary expertise.

Discoveries

Oh my,
It's July,
I haven't written anything...sigh,
So for good measure,
And your viewing pleasure,
Here's a picture of a treasure.

The wonders of social media have brought this modern marvel to my attention, so I am sharing its beauty with the rest of the uneducated. The contraption above is nothing more than a drinks dispenser. Wait though before you stop reading...assuming you read and don't just look at the photos I post, (which wouldn't be advisable since this blog is pretty picture-anaemic), this mechanical mixologist can produce no less than 100 flavours of sugary goodness, or sugarless goodness if you're so inclined, and none of the small talk. Blandly named the Coca-Cola Freestyle (Marketing must have spent ages on that one), you can find them in Burger King across the whole of.....17 stores in Greater London. To ensure you locate your nearest one post haste I will leave you with this trinket...Peach Sprite!!!!.......I say no more.

(DISCLAIMER: I in no way endorse eating anything from the restaurant itself...if indeed it can be called such. Though I am partial to a Whopper...it's the tomato that does it for me)

Strange Hobbies

Lying on the bedroom floor
In carpet patterns you'll
Solve your troubles
Unlock the world
It's a magic point of view.

Another Problem Solved by the Internet

Those who know me understand I am probably the most indecisive person in existence (okay maybe that's a vast overstatement, but I'm also well practiced in melodramatics). I personally blame it on the parents giving me pocket money and saying I could only choose one packet of sweets from a range of fifty-odd tooth-rotting varieties. Where else could such indecision stem from if not my youth? The reality is I don't want a packet of sweets, I want Pick-n-Mix but unfortunately Woolworths has closed down and the dodgy market-stall version looks like a few to many toddlers have tampered with the jazzies. The beauty of Pick-n-Mix is that you get to have everything you want and nothing you don't, so there's no wondering what you could have bought instead of those Fisherman's Friend sweets you thought were only for grown-ups.

In reality the real issue is I like to have all the facts and information about a subject before committing to anything, which is ridiculous but I still manage to function in society. (Oh my readers....the two of you...I apologise for this sounding like a cognitive behavioural therapy session....oh wait that's my whole blog...whoops). Anyway I found a solution to the issue, and for anyone suffering with indecision like I am, there is hope! There is? Yes, fear not for the age of the online quiz is upon us!

Recent conversations have made me realise more than usual, people's political ignorances allegiances. As a non-committal wannabe tree-hugging hippy I just want to make the world a better place, but it seems others just don't care. The apparent middle-class epidemic is spreading and to confirm I wasn't contagious I did what any uncertain person would do, I took a quiz to tell me my future (computer algorithms work wonders at labeling you if you can't do the job yourself).

I always believed I was quite moderate, slight socialist tendencies with the occasional capitalist outburst, but it seems the results of the almighty quiz prove otherwise. I'm none other than a libertarian, and apparently I swing to left in regard to economics. It's okay though. I seem to be in good company, Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, The Dalai Lama. They all are situated pretty close to my way of thinking, and everyone loves them...right? Unfortunately it seems that current western leaders are all on the other end of the spectrum....maybe it's time to take my vows at the monastery. Does orange suit my complexion?

P.S. If anyone wants to do the quiz it can be found here: http://www.politicalcompass.org/test

Love, Hugs, and Other Drugs

I like the idea of this! I hope other retailers adopt this practice because I would very much like a new pair of shoes. In fact I'd be more than willing to exchange 3 hugs for some Kurt Geiger lovelies.

As an aside this also reminded me of an unusual gentleman soliciting hugs in Prague, whether street performer, pervert, or random stranger I didn't care and I decided to take him up on his offer and was quite surprised how amazing it was, not the hug itself, just the euphoria that followed. I was elated for a good few hours afterwards, which seemed totally illogical but in all honesty has been one of the highlights of my life. So everyone, hug random strangers, and machines if needs be, I promise it can only bring you happiness.

Fly on Your Wall

Have you ever heard a recording of your own voice, or seen a video of yourself, complete with all your quirks. The experience brings disbelief at first. Who is this imposter? They are doing a pretty hideous job of impersonating me. Granted they look dapper, but the mannerisms…. “Oh my gosh”, just stop…it’s actually painful to witness. Sooner or later, the reality slowly settles into your pretty little head, which seeing now projected onto 32” isn’t actually very pretty. The truth is…you suck at being you. But, before you all invoice me your bills for therapy, allow me to elaborate.

Our perception of the world occurs in the present and by becoming a fly on the wall of our own lives, we just notice all the behaviours that otherwise wouldn’t really present themselves unless someone points them out to us. We have established our ideas of who we are and how we act, and to be shown a deviation of how we portray ourselves doesn’t sit well. Though in 10 years, I will probably have formed a new representation of myself and I can leisurely remark on how quaintness of my former self. Goodness knows that 6 year-old Michael loved wearing his trousers around his nipples, maybe these annoyances will just be one of those idiosyncrasies of the era. You may suck at being you, but no one else is going to do a better job, so embrace your strangeness. It's why you're so SPECIAL.

P.S. This blog is turning terribly musing. I always start with such a great topic to write on and end up philosophising instead of sharing my random stories about stalking strangers….you will all have to wait.