My life story...nah!

I just recently cut my hair. My hair turned out to be the shortest I have since my grade school years. I’ve never been into a salon for sixth months and voila, the hairdresser was pulling my used-to-be-long-curly-jet black hair. So much for my hair history.

Snatcher—the word which I ultimately abhor. The brother of unkindness, the daughter of revenge, the father of corruption.

When I went to Manila just two weeks ago, I agreed to exchange my cellular phone with my roommate. She needed my Nokia phone because it had a louder alarm than her Sony Ericsson K_i. It was fine by me since it wasn’t the first time we exchanged phones.

When I got back to school, it was a Tuesday. Having missed my journalism class the night before I was caught up between writing my film critique which was due that night and fatigue for not sleeping (literally not sleeping!) for two consecutive nights.

And so when I was in my vulnerable moment in life, he or she grabbed the opportunity and seized or should I say snatched that damn phone which was not mine from my bag while doing my article! I didn’t really know what happened, so as three of my friends who were with me in the same table during the time of the incident.

Thanks to me for trusting my fellow Ateneans enough. Blame it also to my carelessness for leaving that darn black bag astray!

I was reading the President’s bulletin and have read numerous messages about the snatching in campus. I never thought things like that will eventually affect me—really affect me.

I want to tell you the real reason I cut my hair.

Maybe I was so fed up with the things going on around me. The lost cellphone which added to the stress of my parents that led to them not talking to me, the pressure of beating the deadline for my television class not to mention the tabloid you are reading write now, the big basket of laundry you need to wash, the stress of being broke because you spent the whole allowance meant for two weeks…you know the rest of the story.

When you are a college student staggering with all the requirements you need to finish plus the issues you are dealing within yourself, your parents, others, community, society, the world. The list is endless. You name, we deal with them with every moment of our breathing existence.

So what am I trying to say?

I salute to every single person who can relate to my little fairytale, or maybe worse. When you are left all alone in a big city, and you are expected to be good, I know it’s hard. So kudos to all of us! We may be older before our time but who cares? We are mightier than martyrs, more powerful than our politicians and smarter than Einstein! The youth indeed can change the nation (sounding more like Rizal).

So when you are caught with stress and pimples, change your hairstyle. Will it do you good or not, who cares? It is just hair, a microcosm of your body which is divided into groups and subgroups of stands of collagen and protein. It will eventually grow to any length your wicked hairdresser decides to snip off on your next salon appointment.

By the way, my mum and I are back with our YM sessions…and she sent me my allowance too. Life is still beautiful after all.