methinks asked me "how goes?"

I can't turn down the freedom she granted me with that question so here goes.

It goes fair-to-middlin'. My latest endeavor has been to allow my hair to grow which I've done pretty well. Two mornings ago I noticed that I was cultivating a tiny mullet and quickly remedied the situation.

My image-reflecting capabilities are limited (I only have one mirror in my bathroom) so I just began grabbing any hair on the back of my neck that felt too long and cut it off. (Blindly cutting their own hair is but one of the many privileges that males enjoy.) The impromptu haircut went well. At least, it feels like it went well. The only casualty was a bit of knuckle that I scissored off. My knuckles are rather thick so I didn't notice until today. It was a small price to pay.

What else besides body modification?

I've been keeping a bedside journal. It's less stressful than a blog because it doesn't highlight every word I misspell. My dear friend Molly gave me the journal (beautiful one) and I've been hesitant to fill it. My goal is to fill it by the end of the year and then give it to her to read. I flirted with the idea of keeping several journals all addressed to different readers, (disregarding the odds they'd ever see it.) I hoped that despite the slings and arrows and flights of fancy that plague personal logs, having a person in mind would tether my voice to relevant phrases.

How quickly these things get out of hand.

There is an inherent violence, I think, in living for another person. It's like trying to swim in two rivers.