Born a few decades too late.
Gazing into the mirror, my mind wandering, that thought drifted through my mind.
The barber turned the chair a bit, jarring my mind back to where I was, sitting getting my usual haircut, my familiar trim. Just grab the clippers and make it quick and easy, I said to the woman eyeing how to proceed.
Earlier, I sat wedged into a worn crevice of my couch surfing hopelessly through channel after channel on the TV only to find Britney video after Britney video.
Back in the day, just a few decades a go, songs topped the charts for how they sounded and not how they looked. Musicians were judged by talent scouts and not by mass popularity. How dare musicians be represented by their music, instead of their physical appearance.
Video killed the radio star and gave rise to passing pretty faces and catchy dance moves.
Bring back The Beatles.
My mind continued to wander about, imagining what life was like before my time. My mind conjured a time when clothes were bought for comfort and practicality, not price tag and name brand.
Oh this shirt feels like burlap, but look how the name brand shimmers in the sunlight.
The hair stylist woke me from my daydream to ask how I wanted my hair cut.
"Just trim it. I'm not picky," I replied.
My eyes darted to the menu of hair options, a list that read like Forest Gump's list of shrimp dishes.
Life is like a box of chocolates, but there is something to be said about simplicity.
I went for a haircut, not a perm, highlights, frosting and a shampoo.
Maybe I grew up watching too many reruns of "Andy Griffith" and "Leave it to Beaver."
Maybe the evolution of music into a generic blob of silicone and hairspray is a step in the right direction.
I affirmed my choice. "Just cut it short. I'm really not that picky."
Greg Gelpi covers education for the News Daily. He can be reached at email@example.com or (770) 478-5753 Ext. 247.