Live free or die

Former Libertarian candidate for president and archetypal wise old man Harry Browne writes that for a person to know herself completely, she needs time alone to figure herself out. “Even if the people around you haven’t been demanding or tyrannical,” he says, “you’ve still had to consider them when making decisions.” And in his book “How I Found Freedom in an Unfree World” – known in some highbrow circles (my immediate family) as the Bible – he touts the necessity of taking time to cut off all external influences and being the only decision-maker in your life for a while.\nIt’s easy to read Browne and feel empowered, as I do most evenings when repeated tearful, stiff-jawed viewings of the music video for “Listen” by Beyonce don’t do the trick. However, the feeling usually only lasts for an hour or so. When I come into contact with other human beings, I always find myself deferring to their better judgment. And it’s about time I put a stop to that nonsense. \nI realize that my column is only published every other Friday. This unfortunate fact makes it impossible for me to stand on the proverbial balcony like Evita, proclaiming to the masses my newfound freedom from the chains that have been binding me. However, all eight of you readers are in for a real treat. \nWhat follows is a cutting of the umbilical cord; a severing of those relationships that have been keeping me down all these years; an escape from the cage that has kept my hummingbird self in; a shot at love with Tila Tequila. This is going to be emotional. Prepare yourself. \nTo my hairdresser: Just because you think that my forehead isn’t long enough for bangs doesn’t mean that I can’t have them, OK? My constant “sweep bang” look has been under the influence of your iron fist for too long. The tyranny of your “volumizing” cream is over as well, just for the record. \nTo the DJ at my high school prom: Um, actually you did hear me right the first time. I did just request that Chumbawumba song. And the next time I see you, which will probably be when half my Indianapolis friends get married and hypocritically dance to “Independent Women” at the reception, I’m not going to let you bully me into choosing a different song. \nTo the art gallery in Boulder, Colo., that brazenly sends me announcements for all its openings just because I was drunk at my cousin’s wedding reception and when representatives asked me to sign the mailing list I thought it was a guest book for the wedding: Please take me off your mailing list. I’ll also thank you to disregard the crude drawing. It was intended for my cousin’s new husband. \nWhew, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, I’m officially free! Man, those three people were really keeping me down. Please, readers, take a page out of my book and seize your own empowerment by – oh damn, what time is it?! I’ve gotta go do my boyfriend’s laundry.