Scotland Made Me Want to Shave My Head (Photo Essay)
You probably thought that my first post after returning home would be something incredibly eloquent and meaningful. Maybe you expected a heartwarming story of how I found myself within the Scottish highlands or even fell in love with a Gaelic speaking red headed farm boy. Sorry to disappoint.
I had a wonderful trip. I didn't expect to connect with Scotland in the way I did and I already can't wait to return. If I'm completely honest, while I was on my beautiful trip abroad, so many things back home went wrong that I am having trouble digesting everything. My brain is complete mush and I haven't been able to put words together or my thoughts and feelings into a coherent message. I have wanted to write about my magical time in Scotland but...You know that list of things that you would hate to have happen while you are away from home? Well, I think I had to cross everything off that list. We had not one but two deaths in the family, my grandmother was in the hospital, Stockholm was attacked by terrorists, and my friend committed suicide, among other things.
I can't wait to tell you guys about my adventures but right now they are tainted with everything else that has been going on so I wanted to do something lighthearted. Enjoy.
If you didn't know this, Scotland is very windy. Like, so damn windy I thought I was going to blow away into the sky like a very unprepared Mary Poppins.
You would think that the whole "wind in the hair" thing that you hear on America's Next Top Model is even more glamorous than it sounds. I mean, look how majestic this is:
I'm like the angel of Treseme or something. But this was, apparently, a one-off. A very important takeaway from my trip is that wind and long hair don't mix. You know what makes it worse? Chapstick.
You probably think I am overreacting. Sig, that's not that bad! Don't worry about your damn hair-do! Live in the moment!
I WOULD LOVE TO LIVE IN THE MOMENT IF I COULD SEE IT
WHAT AM I LOOKING AT IN THIS MAJESTIC PHOTO? I DON'T KNOW, I COULDN'T SEE
HELLO. MY NAME IS SIG AND THIS IS MY HAIR. BE CAREFUL; IT GROWLED AT ME EARLIER.
Even in a ponytail my bastard hair can't help but to pistol whip me in the face. What did you say? Where am I? I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of my hair beating me in the head.
Lucky for me, this is not an isolated incident!
Hair I created you...I grew you myself. Why must you do this to me.
Until I can find someone that will shave my head, I have a temporary solution:
I at least need to get rid of those damn baby hairs.
Stay tuned for my actual (hopefully meaningful and insightful) posts about Scotland. Hopefully, this will hold you over until my brain recovers.