Last week I went in for a haircut and I came out a blonde. It wasn’t 100% spontaneous, but it certainly was much less of a percentage planned. I’ve never been blonde in my life — unless you count my childhood dark blonde/light brown “dishwater blonde” as my grandmother called it. And oh how I hated that — dishwater blonde just sounds lovely. Anyway, the reviews have been almost all positive, I’m still not convinced of the exact shade or the new persona. So far as a blonde I’ve rear-ended someone on 676 , sent a drunk text when I was sober, and told people I’m starting vegetarianism but ordered the frittatta with bacon at brunch (I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give up bacon).

What made me do it? The same thing that made me cut my hair short in the first place over a year ago. The same reason we all go do a crazy, somewhat random things. We want to feel something when everything else we feel is tired, numb, disappointed, or in need of spark of inspiration. Despite the blessing of a new job, I’ve been struggling to find inner happiness and contentment with my life and that passion for this city that I once had. I know the only way to get myself where I want to be is to unveil in inherent happiness from within me — not through other people or things; the kind of happiness that cannot be taken away. This time, that was personified in letting my stylist bleach and stain my hair some unnatural hue that will lighten things up and give me a new perspective.

But what do I do now? The color’s not right, but the action was. You’ve heard “fake it ’til you make it” and that’s the wisdom we’re going with for this lesson. I’m going to fake my blonde until I feel like it’s me, I’m going to keep doing things and searching within myself until I’m happy, and I’m going to keep adjusting both those things as needed — without any expectations of their conclusions.

And isn’t that life? Just go for it, figure it out as you go, and if you don’t like, change it until you’re happy. From one of my favorite Coldplay anthems: “I’d rather be a comma than a full stop.” The only point of no return, the only period in our life’s script is death; the rest of the time is just pauses in moments that need us to reflect on what was just scripted. I don’t have to be blonde forever, it’s just an idling in my hair color history as I contemplate what’s below my roots, under my skull, and what messages my brain is sending my heart (and vice versa).

So until I make it, I’m faking blonde, faking happy… but I’m going back to driving like a brunette. Apparently blondes aren’t as attentive on the morning commute, and I can’t afford an insurance claim because I just spent $xxx.xx on getting my hair dyed professionally. ~CkB