There's a girl in a downtown coffee bar. You know the kind... Where young hipsters and aging baby-boomers congregate to wax poetic about politics and music and stilted romance. She sits with her pink, Lisa Loeb glasses and her Charlotte Bronte Anthology.. sipping cappucino and gazing slightly at the broken-hearted folk singer who once asked her for a date. She's thinking of something far away or how the newest album from the standard, un-commercial rock band will change her life forever. Regardless of the thoughts and dreams running through this odd creature's mind, I can't help but wonder how many hours it might take to create such a pattern upon a persons head. I cautiously wander toward her, almost in a daze. Blinded by the brilliant color radiating from atop this girl. She eyes me bravely and without regard for my brazen attempt at nonchalance. And as I come closer I notice the sturdy but slightly crooked grin upon her face. I gather all my courage and ask the question that is burning in the very center of my soul: What, pray tell, possessed you to do this to your beautiful head of hair? And with her reply came an air of confusion, much like puppy when asked a simple question. "You seem to believe that my multicolored locks are a statement of nonconformity and abnormal by the look on your face. But the answer to your query is a simple one: I did it because I can."