Perceptions
Perceptions are an interesting thing. At the workshop, I joined some of the smokers outside during one of the coffee breaks, and as I walked up, they were discussing stereotypes and the unimaginitive way that one of their full-length black leather trenchcoats always elicited comments of The Matrix. And one guy turned to my just as I stepped up and asked, “Do people pigeonhole you into a specific group?” Well, they used to. I don’t know anymore. My hair is no longer a mohawk standing over a foot tall. It’s grown out so that the tips are bleached and bluish grey and pink, and at the length where it’ll all stand on end if I run my fingers through it. And I really like that, but had never really considered it anything but a quasi-crazy look until one of the women helping to organize the workship (working with DERI or HP, I believe) passed me on the stairs and said with a big smile, “Great hair by the way.” After the pubs closed last night, dancing the rest of the night away at Cuba (and drinking far too much), a girl danced up to me, put her hands out, ruffled my hair, and danced away. Only to return and repeat this several times. Good fun, that. Standing around very drunk at the end of the night, waiting for Marco, a guy did the same thing; He walked passed, ruffled my hair, and then kind of glared at me. I glared back, and then we shook hands and had a good laugh at it.