Death to the mullet

I killed it.

The mullet.

It was a hot day today, and I was walking, in the usual quick, toe-tippy way that I do, my "mullet" began to stick to the back of my neck. I thought ...Gross, I should chop it off.

So I dug around to find scissors. Kitchen scissors did the trick. And snip. Gone forever.

I might miss it. But I was bored and there were scissors. 

The first week was good. I've been working with a team of designers, which is a first for me. Its been an exciting, new, scary, tiring, depressing, interesting, inspiring week. I feel like I've grown. Maybe? I learned that I actually love to read. I've learned a lot about myself I guess. And this can be expected from only spending my time with myself. 

At first its like, woah - I need to be around other people, but after a while its quite relaxing. 

The death of the mullet, to me, signifies a new phase in my life. As completely cheesy as that sounds.

A phase when I really meet myself. Have dinner with myself. Have a cigarette with myself. Work with myself. 

Im getting used to it. And I really kind of like it.

Chicago is beautiful. The weather has been completely sporadic, but the wide avenues and rich architectural history makes simply being in this city worth it. 

A thick fog rolled in on tuesday, as I was walking home from work. Looking up, it looked as if the Chicago skyline was having sex with the sky, with towers piercing a thick white mass. It became thicker and thicker and by midnight it was on the ground, making the air crisp, slightly damp, and clean. 

I remember feeling clean. 

Im not in much of a writing mood, so I'll leave it at that.