edit: This post starts on a personal and cosmetic note, and then it verges into something completely different. For this I am truly sorry.
The top of my head has always been a problem to me. More specifically, the things growing on it. It sounds gross, but you all have it, and you're going to have to live with it. It's called hair, and it's changing the world.
My hair has always been a problem to me. Whether I am attempting to stay warm, or look cool (ahahaha, pun right guys? It's funny right? Right?!) its never really looked out for me. I have no idea why, and I never have, but for some reason its just not a good part of my body. Its like a mattress if its left to grow, and like a scrubber brush if cut, and there seems to be no middle ground. Also, the colour is a distasteful shade of brown, and it seems to be unnaturally thick, of which both traits have been inherited from my father's side of the family. Perhaps it is my destiny to go old and grey, sitting at a desk with my in and out tray feeling constant flow, but maybe one day, I will say "No more!" and get my hair cut a proper way. We can but see. And this is an incredibly short post, which, in all honesty, is frankly unacceptable. So I will continue with a passage from Fyodor Dostoyevsky's novel; The House of The Dead:
'Stop snivelling, you've spilt you're vodka!'
Wow! Powerful stuff right?! You can just see all the emotion and culture flooding out of every letter and description! The book practically oozes the typical Dostoyevsky charm. That is to say, charm involving prison people. Prison people who are all wacky and distinctly Russian. I am not complaining, this is a good thing, but one might read this immediately after reading Crime and Punishment and think 'Hold on a minute!'
That is really all, until they look up the beloved author on Wikipedia, and find out that a bunch of his stuff doesn't take place within the gritty pre-communism Russia legal system. Wacky, huh?!
I love his books. And I'm not saying that to look smart, because to be quite honest, wading through it was one of the hardest things I've ever done. It tested my concentration and my ability to cope with long stretches of musings of old-lady murder. But I feel stronger from it.
Oh...Crap, I forgot Notes from the Underground.
My bad guys!