Mousy molly

After a long hiatus from the land of cropped bangs, I have triumphantly returned. I know this sounds like a strange way to start a blog post. HEY WORLD, GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TO MY HAIR! It's a funny story. I was playing with Jonney Quinn's lighter, a Zippo, and forgot that fire comes out of lighters. And when you put fire near to flammable things, the fire spreads and does this weird thing called singing your low-hanging side bangs. The damage was hardly noticeable, but I took this as a sign. The fates have had enough of my hairstyle.

So tonight I put on Arcade Fire, and chopped off those stylish bangs. Now my bangs rise above my eyebrows and I feel that this is an irony, as just today I was too shy to sing in front of my family.

Have I ever mentioned before how much I am my grandfather's daughter? He and I are more similar than me and my dad. We're both artists and both introverts, and while he's a little whack in the head because of the War, I'm a little whack in the head from the War at Home, which I wish weren't a cliche, or else that phrase would seem really creative. We both get angry in a quick instant, from whence there is no return.

I mention this because I can always count on my grandpa to be on my team. When I was being pressured to sing today, I couldn't get the message through that I didn't want to. That I didn't feel like it (my anxieties rearing their pale faces). No matter what I said, the chorus of "please"s rose higher and higher. Finally, my grandpa said, "It's okay. She doesn't have her amplifier." Silently, I thanked the great divine being who decided that I could have somebody in the family looking out for me from, well, the rest of the family.

Whom I love very much. I love my family very much. But they're just so zany!!! Someone ought to turn this into a wacky ABC sitcom!