Cut Hair to the Wind

And just like that, my dreams of becoming a world renouned hair model go up in smoke. I went to my friends office to have "competition practice" for the big day next　month. I practiced my Japanese to the sounds of clicking scissors and screams of televised Japanese soccer. As the minutes passed the hour mark, I saw resignation on the face of my hair obsessed friend. Dispite my best efforts, my hair was still too short to be of any use in the competition. Even though I am slightly disheartened at the loss of what could have been, I am reminded of how truly odd that competition would have been. I would have looked like a mix between Vanilla Ice and Guile from Street Fighter. My hair would have been pushed vertical and flattened on the top and dyed yellow. Yet, in the darkness there is always a speck of hope. As the monsoon season begins in Kyoto, I no longer need to have long unwieldy lawyer hair.