For some reason, I've grown a beard again. I've decided to sport the bald head and unkempt face look for a while. I'm a bit puzzled as to why I've done this, but here I am, wooly and furry again. Of course, it's now at the point where my beard is exploding in a curly manner, a firework of follicles. Red, white, black and brown hairs all shooting out from my face, redefining how I look. I seem to do this about once a year, change up how I look. I seem to need to transform myself every so often, just to try not to be the same person. I'm not sure why this is. Meanwhile, little things continue to mark who I am. I never seem to be able to tie my right shoe. I get incredibly animated if I have a lot to do. Nothing in my brain or mind seems to have changed. Oh, how it's itched to get to this point. I've scratched, and I've scratched and I've scratched. I've almost given up many times, like I did earlier this summer when I tried before to gr
Striking down the mundane and dastardly while retaining a certain obscure turn of phrase, denoting something elusive yet concrete.