Salt in the black pepper.

Yes. Salt. In my black pepper. My hair stylist told me. Yeah, its not correct to call them barbers anymore. Well, even if we used that word, it would be have to be barberess, and that doesn't sound too right either. I noticed one strand in the back mirror and exclaimed ..Woah.. She confirmed and started counting some more before I stopped her.

A minute of contemplation passed. What does that mean ? I mean, what doors does this open/close in life. I knew my dad had a full black till he was 45 or something. I'm 27. They say stress affects the symptoms of aging. Ok, I'm in grad school => some stress, but big deal, my dad had a way more tougher and difficult childhood, youth and a life in general.

Strangely though, I wasn't freaking out too much. Although I can't deny that a slow numbing pain remained, a feeling of acceptance descended. I wonder if thats a good thing though, am I losing my aggression, or am I becoming more tolerant ? I do find myself strangely hero-worshipping the grey-haired. Gandalf, Yoda and some academicians I meet often, for example. I see a deeper strength there, long-lasting, stable.

I forgot where I was going with this. Senility ? I think I'll dye my hair white.