Contemplation via Hair Cutting

My barber didn't speak much English, which was a blessing because I didn't have to hold up a conversation I didn't want to have.

So I just sat there. And in the sitting, realized several things.

1. I realized I could never be a barber because I don't like to touch people. Not pathologically so, you understand. I don't consider it a hardship or disgusting or anything, I just prefer not to touch others, with the natural exception of my wife and children. I don't mind being touched, in fact, I enjoy a good haircut, but my outward personal space is tighter than my inward personal space.

2. I realized I am not unique. I don't generally look at myself in a mirror, but there's not much else to do during a haircut. I see my brother peeking back at me, bits of my mother, a lot of my dad, some of both granddads. Even my mannerisms echo family members. I don't think I have a single original piece on me. I suppose that's true of the people I look like, too. Probably if we could do a reverse time/person lapse photography thing, we'd discover that every single human being alive today would see themselves in Adam and Eve. How's that for weird?