My hair had grown out long and shaggy—not in that sexy-young-rock-star kind of way but in that time-to-take-Rover-to-the-groomer kind of way.

I've always had really messy hair.

I'm talking about a little truth-in-packaging here. To be perfectly frank, you don't quite look like yourself. And if you walk around looking like someone other than who you are, you could end up getting the wrong job, the wrong friends, who knows what-all. You could end up with somebody else's life."

I shrugged again, and smiled. "This is my life," I said. "It doesn't seem like the wrong one.

We were a little sloppy, but they had a lot to do with that. Maybe two months ago we might not have been tough enough to hang on and increase that lead. We seem to be getting tougher.

I love having messy hair. I put in a lot of effort to have it look as messy as possible.

Flannel shirts, denim, Converse, a guitar, messy hair? That's literally me.