Rant-Rant-Rant-Rant-Rant

I'm very good at ranting. I've been known to get on my "soapbox" or my "high horse" and rant-rant-rant until I'm blue in the face. Sometimes, literally. 
However, I don't always like to rant. Sometimes I wish I had the personality of someone who sat in the back of the room and didn't say anything. But that's not me. And it would be so unlike me to sit and listen to everyone else. My reputation precedes me: I'm a ranter.
And this week--full of rants.


Now, telling them all to you would not be fun because then I would have to work up all of my emotion. However, I have one that I will tell, mostly because I'm most frustrated about it.


Wednesday, I went to get my hair cut. I have never really had a bad haircut, but this lady apparently didn't hear me when I said, "No, don't taper," and "Please don't cut the length. I don't want a trim; I just want layers." When I walked out of the salon (which will remain nameless), I should've fallen on my knees asking the Lord for forgiveness. No, I didn't cuss the lady out (out loud, anyway), but I did treat her like trash.
Did I feel justified? Heeeeeck yes. I mean, I live with my hair every day. It's my livelihood. It's my pride. It's what describes my personality, and right now, I'm done being the college kid. I'm ready to be a WO-man.
Not with that haircut I wasn't.
Long, sobby story short, the lady cut off two inches. Now, this may not seem to be a big deal to you, but two inches=4 months of vitamin E and rubbing my scalp to get it to grow. With that in mind, maybe you understand why I sobbed and almost lost my relationship with the Lord.


Now, this was a mild rant, because I had time to think it through. If only I thought through my rants before I ranted about them, maybe I wouldn't rant so much. Maybe I could become the kid in the back of the room with no input.


Nah.