Micah McClarty

Interesting people are type B; interesting people know how to live.

Today’s philosophical discussion in the dregs of fourth hour was the subject of “type A” and “type B.” So, obviously, I asked my teacher what type he thought I was because I love knowing what everyone thinks about me at all times. He responded, “Oh, type A. Obviously.”

Obviously.

What does he mean? Is it because I care so much about my grades? Is it because of my inability to not give 110%? Is it because I’m smart? Is it because I talk a lot? Is it because I think too much?

Am I thinking too much?

Later, I ventured into the depths of TikTok to see a woman cutting micro bangs in her hair. “Randomly decided my bangs were too long,” the caption read. 

Randomly.

I am unable to process that word. How does one do that? How does one look at themselves in the mirror, pick up a pair of kitchen shears, and chop their prized locks in the span of two minutes without an ounce of consideration? How does one make an impulsive decision that could make or break the next half of their year?

Every time I go to the hair salon, I meticulously plan out my hairstyle with a thorough Pinterest board, each image capturing what I want to look like for the next six months.

It always ends up looking bad, nowhere near what I imagined. No matter how much planning I do, I hate myself and the hairdresser and Pinterest and everyone for thirty minutes. 

This is what I asked for.

I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be the person who psychoanalyzes every moment, looking into every glance and stance and red line theory and vocal inflection.

I want to be someone who randomly decides that her bangs need a trim but cuts them too short, so I commit to the microbang look. I want to spontaneously want an indigo streak in my hair and spontaneously exit Walgreens with a box of hair dye—instead of adding another bullet point to my note titled “if i were cool.” I want to be someone whose only reasoning behind any decision is “because I want to.” I desperately want to go about my life with turbulence; I want to charge into the unknown unknowingly with no care.

But I also know that the most turbulent I will ever get is my habit of procrastination, sending me into the 11:59 p.m. spiral of desperate perfectionism.

I know that everyone is a mix of the two types; I know that the system isn’t binary or black and white. 

But I know that I will always be type A. There will always be six A’s on my PowerSchool screen, and I will always cry when there aren’t any. I’ll always plan out my year on New Year’s Eve and spend hours studying at Foxtail. I’ll always be a type A, always this way.

But maybe I won’t; maybe I’ll become the ‘cool girl’ I’ve always dreamed of being. Maybe I’ll go to school without brushing my hair, or go to bed without finishing my Seminar presentation. MAYBE I’LL TYPE IN ALL CAPS AND REMEMBER THAT I HAVE FREE WILL! MAYBE I’LL DEFY GRAMMAR RULES AND POST A MEDIOCRE, ALMOST POORLY WRITTEN COLUMN ON A PERMANENT WEBSITE!!!!!!!

Maybe I won’t always be this way.