Yet there is some constancy in my hectic life, I have to admit. I have got (at least) two regular things happening, two time-reckoning devices, two most reliable signs of time passage: my notebooks and my fringes.

While I may have the impression of being stuck in time or lacking structure in what I do, there is something cyclical in my undisciplined existence: I regularly fill with non-sense entire notebooks (from improvised calendars, appointments, deadlines to quotes that I like, fuzzy ideas, scribblings altogether). And my customary fringes, they grow inevitably, no matter what. 

While notebooks pile up one by one until they lie forgotten (I rarely dare to throw them, each marking/documenting one interval/cycle of time), my hair is something I have to always dispose of, since I never have the patience to grow them long enough. One is about accumulation and keeping track of my ever-changing self, another one is about keeping something under control and not crossing the limit (eyebrows), perhaps about me wanting to preserve the same image of myself since I was 8 years old (since my first haircut).

[procrastination thoughts when I should be writing about totally sth else]