Quickie splatter

* This is the first period of time in my life where I've had an actual "hairstyle". Yes, I've had hair before, and yes, it's been styled. And yes, it was cut and styled by a professional in whom I placed a great deal of trust. (My hair is a vanity.) But the current style can't be considered anything but a "hairstyle", and it's a little disturbing to me. Random people have complimented me on it. Lots of people have made a big deal out of it, including my 16-year-old niece, who shouldn't be noticing anything at all about her more-than-twice-as-old-as-she-is aunt, particularly her hair. But she noticed, and told me how much she liked it. And I was pleased, but I also squirmed.

Doesn't that mean that she didn't like what I had before? Doesn't it mean that none of them liked what I had before? I loved what I had before - over-long, curly, kind of messy, sort of trademark hair. And now it's short and really ... traditional. It's nice, and when I see it in the mirror I wonder who did it. (And of course I know who did it - it was Lori, and I love it.) But is it me?

Maybe I just need a new color.

* I've been carrying the following dreadful poem in my wallet since high school. If anyone can tell me the title or author, they win a prize.

I know that love's irrational and blind;
I know the heart's not subject to the mind,
And can't be reasoned into beating faster;
I know each soul is free to choose its master;
Therefore had you but spoken from the heart,
Rejecting my intentions from the start,
I'd have no grievance, or at any rate
I could complain of nothing but my fate.
Ah, but so falsely to encourage me -
That was a treason and a treachery
For which you cannot suffer too severely,
And you shall pay for that behavior dearly.
Yes, now I have no pity, not a shred....

Although now, as I type it (for the dozenth time at least), I realize that it may be Shakespearean or something along that line. It's certainly from that phase in my life, the Jay K era, when I was depressed and moped constantly and wanted nothing but to have something immensely painful to FEEEEEEEEL. But the offer still stands - find me a title and author and I'll pay!

* Today's Jinny's last day, half of my staff of supervisees, my buddy with whom I listen to classical music in the afternoons and surreptitiously slam co-workers. She's pretty calmly going through her day of people stopping by to hug her and wish her well. I'm feeling like sliding off my chair under my desk to bawl.

Must do work now.