Sometimes having dreadlocks is interesting. When Becca and I were at the airport, an older couple were obviously fascinated with our hair and couldn't quite believe that it wasn't "artificial". Even my grandmother barely believes that this is all my own hair.

Today, at the big library downtown (I think I'll be okay in the city as long as I stick to the libraries. I went into Bed Bath and Beyond tonight to buy a travel pillow and pretty much gave myself a hernia. I am afraid of things, especially so much silicone cookware and so many digital scales...) a boy took a picture of my hair.

I was wandering by, minding my own business, and I semi-noticed him lifting his phone up and aiming it at me. Then, I heard that unmistakably loud fake shutter sound that cameras on phones have, trying to make up for the fact that they are nothing that should really be legitimately be called a camera. And then the boy (he was about fifteen or sixteen) kinda went *cough, cough* to make up for the fact that he had stolen my soul with his camera phone and his fake shutter sound had given him away.

It was all I could do not to bust out laughing, but I had some respect for the dignity of a teenage boy and acted like I hadn't noticed. Besides, there were books calling my name. All I can think is that he wanted a photo of some girl's crazy hair. I certainly wasn't wearing anything spectacular. Except, you know, it could have been that spandex glitter suit I had on.