Friends, Cougars, countrymen, lend me your ears. We are about to embark on an imminent voyage, otherwise known as summer vacation.
Overhearing people ask questions like "What are your plans?" and "Are you going to do anything fun?' burns my curious ears and puts weight on my already leaden step.
You may recall my being severely depressed about not being able to travel during spring break.
Actually, you may recall my being depressed about quite a few things, but this specific issue really takes the cake.
I've been asked dozens of times why I like to travel so much. Do I like experiencing new cultures and countries? Sure. Who doesn't? Do I like to practice my knowledge of foreign languages? Of course.
That's not the point.
All that does not make me feel that surly urge to splurge and fly the friendly skies.
It may sound petty, but I am the established world-traveler I am for one simple, lucid reason: It's humid as hell here.
The sultry, mystifying Houston weather had actually succeeded in seducing me into feeling rather hopeful.
Unfortunately, I woke up the next day with an afro.
You'd like to think I was kidding, believe me.
At first, it brought back memories. I remembered all the times I used to walk straight into light posts on my way home from school because I couldn't see through my hair.
I can still hear the snickering and the name-calling. My classmates thought it was absolutely hilarious to taunt me with, "Hey, Amanda, where's your face?"
"Why don't you just wet it?" was constantly advised by those who truly had no compassion for the unfortunate battling frizz.
Let me just tell you all right now, wetting it does not help!
You may choose not to take this seriously, but it is, however, a very serious matter. For a long while, my hair consumed me - quite literally. And that is why I roam.
So just to where exactly do I plan to flee this summer? That is the dilemma, my friends, for I have no plans to flee.
At first, I thought it was simply a financial barrier. Now I know it is my subconscious that wants me to stay and battle this cursed foe, the humidity which has brought so much pain and suffering to my life.
(I have the scars to prove it.)
I choose to spend this summer traveling without moving (yes, that is the title of a Jamiroquai song). I shall drown myself in the prose of James Joyce, Ernest Hemingway and perhaps Edgar Allen Poe - all of whom were either too drunk to notice frizz or simply too crazy to care.
I do not see myself as the spokesperson for those battling frizz. I don't know if I deserve such an honor.
Just think of all the world figures who have or had frizz: Albert Einstein, Muamar Quadafi and Chelsea Clinton, just to name a few.
Despite their frizz, they have managed to succeed in the fields of their choice, whether it be academics or terrorism.
Having established that, is it really too much to ask that we, the unfortuantes cursed with frizz, be treated like everyone else? How about a little respect, huh?
Go on your wonderful vacations. Relax. Have a great time. Just don't be surprised if we've taken over the world by the time you get back.
Mahmoudi, a sophomore French and German major, will spend most of her summer indoors, fighting for the rights of the frizz-afflicted. Send all comments to amahmoud@bayou.uh.edu.