Chronicles of Moustache: Day 5

Behind on School

But ahead on facial hair. I think that’s a win. Somehow. Take that university.

True Facts

The moustache is really growing on me. Literally though. Not in any kind of metaphoric or pun sense. It still looks awful.

People are still staring, mouth agape, and I can’t seem to shake the ironic hipster comments. Can’t they tell this is very sincere?

A kind lady said I look like a young Sam Elliot today. I’m making this up; but it was still very nice of her. Thank you.

Every time I see another moustache I can’t help but wonder what the hell they are thinking.

I need to switch my computer from American to English. These red lines I see under moustache are starting to bother me. I never thought I would type that word so often.

Can I Just Rant a Bit?

Okay cool. This next bit actually happened today. I got home from school and as usual I stared at myself in the mirror for a healthy ten minutes just to make sure I was still unfairly handsome. I was. I am. But. My eyes were bloodshot red, like someone coloured in the whites with a pencil crayon, and the bags under my eyes were big enough to carry groceries home in. Not just a couple groceries. The groceries you get after you notice your fridge has been completely empty for a couple months; save the one lone bottle of nearly empty ketchup and the mystery dish you don’t remember ever seeing before. Groceries so heavy that you have to double bag them while promising to yourself that you will remember the reusable bags currently lost under a pile of discarded pizza boxes.

Yeah alright. I know six classes is a big deal. It’s 2 buttloads (which is much more than 2 shitloads for any of you measuring nerds out there) of classes. But I feel I’m keeping up alright with the workload and the little bit of work I do on the side. The feeling of being pulled under the current still hasn’t hit me. I’m still only wading hip deep, though the undercurrent is probably just a step away.

It’s not the school keeping me awake. All my work is finished at a decent time. I’m on top of this. And sure the work is exhausting. Reading John Hobbes and various death rituals of different religions don’t make a guy want to go line-dancing.

The thing is I’m not sleeping much. Only during my religion class.

It’s this damn moustache. The thing is messing with my mind. It keeps me awake with worry at night. What if my trimmer breaks and I’m stuck like this? What if all the razors in the world just cease to exist? What if I actually do start to like it? Why do people keep saying it looks good when it doesn’t?

Why am I so neurotic about a damn moustache?

The Moral of the Story

Do not do the things I have done.