The Essence of Functionality

The cold weather has returned today.

How nice it is to once again feel the rushing cold breeze against your cheeks. I've always loved the cold - regardless of what others might whine against it.

Some of us prefer the summer season and its joyous, flirtatious flings - everyone wear less and smile more. Summer is definitely for the young and beautiful.

This time around I'll be facing autumn and winter with a near-bald shaven head. 'Brainfreeze' quickly comes in mind. 'Scalpchill' ensues in second place.

Strolling about the U with a chrome dome as your hat emits such a confident aura, a distinguished halo, that no other perfectly-coiffed hairstyle can compete.

I am wise, I am seasoned, I deserve to be treated as an adult, and no more a boy, it seems to announce so helplessly to the glancing passerbys.

To confront such a gruesome sight that reminds one of own's old age; youngblood ladies and gents smile and ridicule, "...that poor fool's time has come."

Defiant and hurt, he retorts:

One's head is to function, and not to fashion, so says the bald, but silently.