I got a haircut today because I'm getting my grad photos done this Wednesday. I have only been happy once in recent memory after receiving a haircut. All the other twenty something times have ended in tears or anger. Why is it that people just can't cut hair? I'm pretty sure that it's not me being picky - believe me, I'm completely fine with going out in public with hair like a horse's mane - unkempt and flying everywhere. But these haircuts that I get - they're just ugly. And I can't take it anymore. I always vow to refrain from cutting my hair ever again. Clearly those vows always fall short but I'm just angry that I couldn't get a decent haircut - especially THREE days before I need to take my grad pics. Like, seriously? Is there NO ONE who can cut hair on this planet?
Maybe it's not about the hair. Maybe it's the fact that taking these photos is a tangible representation of the death of my university career. Maybe it's about the grad photos themselves and what they represent. I'm scared. I'm disillusioned. I feel hopeless sometimes. It's easy to say that God will provide - heck, I've been saying that for four years. But now that the end is so near and there is still no direction, no obvious opportunities, no personal ambitions, no guidance, no voice of God in my ear to point me in the right direction it's easy to ask what the point is. What IS the point? Is there a point? Or is it a free-for-all, the hugest melee ever? Shucks, this sucks. I'm suffering most right now because there's no motivation for me to do anything at all. And when I mean anything at all, I mean ANYTHING. My life is one huge escapist act.
I have people to keep me accountable. People to encourage me. But everything continues to feel hollow and inadequate, no offense to those who have been counselling me. But I definitely feel like I'm alone in this. I'm not going to proclaim that I'm special because I know a bunch of other people are feeling the exact same thing that I'm feeling. But it's like we're all alone in our own battles. It's not something that someone else can help us fight. We're on our own. Ever wonder why the voice of God seems mute?
