Box 2 Writing Assignment

Waking up every morning, I slowly and groggily walk to the restroom with half opened eyes.  The thoughts in my mind are going to class and looking decently presentable for it.  Looking in the mirror, I see the strands of follicles going every which way or flattened like a pancake on the top of my skull.  The imprints of static and my pillow sculpture a hideous piece of art on this soft and crazy landmass.  Two handfuls of water are washed over my face and then through my hair to make it moist and ready for it's awakening. Taking a tube of sculpting gel, I put the substance on the palm of my hand and smooth it out with the other.  Then I take both my hands and graze it through the undefined strands.  The gel then takes its course.  It crystalizes and stiffens to bring about a style in which proves to my satisfaction.  Suddenly, the mess that was once conceived from a long night's sleep, is perfected for a long day's labor.