Hip Hip Hoo-Ray.

When I went off to college I had never seen a hipster. This is because I was the opposite of cool in high school. I wasn't aware that people went to see bands at places that weren't Blossom Music Center. It hadn't occurred to me someone would let their whole house be turned into a dance party. The only tight pants I knew men wore were biking shorts.

So yes, when I got to OSU the existence of hipsters, or as I inexplicably called them "scenesters," blew my mind and legs wide open.

(Ok, in loyalty to my uncool, innocent younger self, I actually didn't hook up with a ton of scenesters, but I LOVE the sentence above so I'll leave it in. I chased a lot of scenesters. I would hook up with more hip people after college than during. I became a more effective hipster chaser with age. Once I knew the right word.)

Now, this is where my ignorance really begins to show. I thought Columbus was an especially hip place. I thought there was something special happening in Columbus. I didn't think garage rock and tight pants and beautiful, long, wavy hair on men were happening anywhere else. I fully expected that when people from Cleveland saw my new cultural membership their minds would be similarly blown. They would be confused and frightened and intrigued and most of all impressed.

No. Everyone from my middle school, and everyone from my high school, by the end of my freshman year of college had become a hipster. And they used the correct word for it. Everyone was a hipper hipster than I was.

This is how unhip I was: at winter break my freshman year a childhood friend asked me if I had heard of Belle and Sebastian. I lied and said I had. She said "That's a college thing, right?" I was like, yeah, uh huh, for sure, Belle and Sebastian, everyone at college listens to that shit.
Then I filed away the band name to investigate. And then I was like, I don't understand, this doesn't sound like Guided by Voices. I hadn't heard Guided by Voices, but I did know what they sounded like.

THINGS I DID BECAUSE I WANTED SO BADLY TO BE A HIP IN COLLEGE:
-dyed my hair purple, then black
-went to every show ever at Bernie's
-cut up a bunch of t-shirts
-gave myself the ugliest haircuts
-became a vegetarian
-stopped bathing
-gave myself alcohol poisoning over and over
-mostly just listened to a bunch of bullshit opinions from boys at parties who had long ago abandoned personal hygiene.

Guys, I didn't ever succeed. The hipsters never thought I was one of them. It was pretty obvious that I did improv comedy and listened to Shakira. It was obvious I didn't know how to smoke weed, no matter what device you handed it to me in. But mostly it was obvious I was relentlessly, tirelessly self-loathing.

It was for the best. The friends I have from college are pretty much only from the improv group, or from my decidedly non-hip dorm floor sophomore year. Shakira is still awesome. And if I had been better at smoking weed people would have included me in their other drug escapades, and I would've flipped my shit on the Oval.

Also the people who were successful at being hipsters in college now are married. Like, not even newlyweds, really in the thick of being married. Married enough to be getting divorces. This is why it's good to be a late bloomer kids. Draw out that young adult period until....just draw it out.

Evidently, I will not be decreasing my mass in the upcoming year.

Well, maybe more of the universe should consist of ME anyway.

Some actions that do not result in a healthier you:

-sleeping till 12
- laying in bed until 1:30
- getting up and preparing bacon, eggs, and the mushroom/ green peas from Christmas dinner for breakfast
- returning to bed to write on a blog about this very experience.

We haven't talked about fat in awhile, have we? Remember 4 years ago when I was really into fat acceptance?

I still am. Even though it was easier to be into fat acceptance when I was an actual healthy, fit, biking machine. Now fat acceptance depends on accepting the fat that is a part of myself, and which I see in photos and feel worried about what other people see in the photos. Real fat is more challenging to accept than theoretical fat. BUT MORE IMPORTANT TO ACCEPT.

I don't take good care of myself or of my surroundings. I have regressed to teenager-hood. I do not know how to feed myself, my room is a mess, I leave my stuff all over the house for my dad to pick up. It's ridiculous.

But hey, I feel pretty good about the opportunities for adult behavior coming my way this year. I bet I'm gonna finally figure out where to put my clothes that have been worn once, but have another wearing in them before the laundry. Besides my floor. I'm more acquainted with the many stores that sell storage solutions than I ever have been before. And man will I work out, like, everyday. Every day just getting super sweaty, and talking about it all the time when I'm not working out. Getting skin yeast infections from all the sweat.

Also I bet I'll finally decide whether I'm a leg shaver or not. And commit to that identity.

And I won't drink at all. Or, I'll drink some whiskey that's really expensive that no one besides the bartender has ever heard of, but I'll nurse it for two hours. Besides I won't be the kind of person who wants to get drunk. I'll be so content and comfortable in my own skin I won't long for oblivion. But I'll still get lots of play. But I won't call it play anymore. I'll be really discreet and respectful and an object of much lust.

I'll get really stylish in a subtle way. I'll just buy a couple of high quality pieces, and I'll call them "pieces."

I won't be really into that Gym Class Heroes song anymore. Because obviously it's annoying. Thus I'll turn off the radio when it comes on instead of blasting it.

I won't be gassy.

I won't cry in a scary way, I'll only cry in an appropriate manner which adds a pinch of pathos to situations which could use it. My face will not turn red and my nose will not run in these situations.

This blog will teach you something besides my mood patterns.

I'll develop a couple of obscure hobbies that are really intriguing to other people....like.....well, right now I'm not even aware of what they could be. Old cameras? I really don't know.

I'll get a smartphone but I won't be constantly on it and thinking about being on it during conversations with real people.

I will always be reading the best new book.

Nothing will ever make me angry except in a far off intellectual way. Like I'll be "angry" about poverty but I won't be ANGRY about some stranger at the bar talking too much when I WANT TO BE TALKING.

I will make Community the most popular show on television.

I'll have a realistic plan for becoming rich.

Everyone who meets me will start to identify as a feminist or womanist. The men who meet me will have sudden insight into the ways they've been kept from being whole people by the patriarchy.

I will be able to rap.

I will become adept in a fighting sport and WIN A BUNCH OF FIGHTS.

Tegan and Sara will get my haircut instead of the other way around.

I'll feel very sure about everything I've said and written.

I will be full of love and forgiveness and appreciation for everyone I come across.

I will be able to knock out 10 pullups at a time.

I actually will do that last one.

A Christmas Poem with no shame attached at all, not even a little, maybe a little.

I had a moment tonight
Maybe it was Christmas
where my heart filled out a little
stretched on one side
just a smidge

Where a gust of wind came through and found a fold to push out

Where I thought of you people I know
wishing each other good things
all of us wishing good things
these wishes arcing across the city grid

we know a wish does nothing
but just in case one might
we do this on special occasions
and some ordinary days
sending out protective nets
sending out love and money spells

that before we're through here
we might have good luck
and see the good luck of our friends
and know we were lucky.

Bad People.

I do this thing where I roam the internet from 10 to 1 in the morning. Then my eyeballs are so wound up I can't get to sleep.

You know, one thought I have to manage quite a bit is if I'm a bad person. I wonder about this often.

Well, maybe some other people also wonder about this.

How should we proceed, potentially bad people?

Someone who was eminently sane would perhaps suggest that a person can neither good nor bad, only their actions can be good or bad. Because a person is a process in constant flux. Perhaps you behaved badly while you were tired from work, but were a saint on your off day.

However, I call bullshit on the eminently sane. There are good people. Dorothy Day. There are bad people. Hitler. Good people. Martin Luther King. Bad people. Sheriff Joe.

Good people. My friend Mary. Bad people. Uhhhhhhhhh........this guy who was a friend of my boyfriend's in college? I mean, he was a messed up guy. Also such a jerk. You wouldn't believe. But he maybe wasn't bad through and through the way I would characterize Mary's goodness.

Well, we've established it's hard to put people you know in the 'bad people' box unless they're really, really bad. So they have to be sort of distant and on tv to really be bad through and through.

Ugh, fellow bad people, look, it's the same shit as always: we need to be friendlier to ourselves. I know. You don't want a friend like you, because you aren't very energetic or dynamic or saving the world.

Well you can either change and be more of all those things, or you can stay the same and start to like your tired, nap prone, bourgeois pig ways. Except you've tried to change, and failed, right?

That was a trick question! No you did not! Because of what that eminently sane person said about people being processes. You didn't fail because you're not done with the test yet. It's still going. And it will go and go and go until you FALL DOWN DEAD.

You know what, this is not something I can talk you out of, you maybe horrible person. Maybe you actually are Hitler or Sheriff Joe. Maybe you are even a worse person than you suspect. Maybe you are fooling yourself about all the harm you do to everyone you cross paths with.

I got nothing on this. Except a question to think about: would you rather be a bad person who everyone liked, or a good person who everyone found obnoxious? A lot of good people are obnoxious. But so are a lot of bad people. And Hitler was a popular guy.

I am really aiming for the middle of the road on both. I would like for at least some people to like me. I would like to at least some of the time be a good person. I think half the time is really stretching it for me. 30 percent of the time is a more reasonable goal. Then 50 percent of the time I'll be asleep, so only 20 percent of my time will be spent being an actively bad person.

It just gets tricky with inaction, right? The US government makes it real tricky, right? With the torture and the prisons? It's hard to have a relaxed attitude about being a middle of the road sort of person when your tax dollars fund nasty shit. Shit you would definitely not be a part of executing, even though you are funding it.

ACK. Ok. So. You're a bad person. You're a no good, terrible, awful, very bad person. Just like that guy I knew in college. Except you also have an anxiety problem. He probably did too. He probably thought he was a really bad guy.

I think maybe the best course of action is to pretend you don't actually exist. Just pretend there's no narrative that connects all of your actions together. There's no person there to be good or bad. And maybe you can do some good things, and experience how that goes, and some bad things, and experience how those go.

That's terrible advice. Don't do bad things. Do good things. Do enough good things you never have to worry about being a bad person, because you are in the middle of doing something good RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND.

Whew. Glad we solved that.

Early Morning

I've got a test on two chapters in my 'Memory and Cognition' course today. It's the last test, so it's the final, but again, it's only on two chapters. They're about reasoning and problem solving. Pretty interesting stuff, or rather would be if I weren't getting tested on it. Funny how that works.

I take the overnight bus to Chicago tonight. Megan is already there, and I hope she's filling today up with family and other friend time so that once I get there her schedule is free and clear. I hope the same for Nellie and Mary.

I woke up at 6 to study, and Fox had a noteworthy amount of energy when we woke up. In his prime he'd get up at 6 with my mom and was allowed to roam free through the neighborhood. I guess the early morning suits him.

The early morning can suit me every once in awhile, but I wouldn't bet on this time being incorporated into my lifestyle. It may be peaceful, but it's also dark. That's a recipe for sleep. It's not a recipe for exercise or meditation. I'm probably not an ingredient in any recipes you find for those things.

I've been listening to 'Exile in Guyville' in preparation for my trip to Chicago. Those are songs that seem clearly written about Chicago to me. You know what song about Chicago I can't deal with? The Sufjan Stevens one. Pandora always wants to play that song, so I've probably heard it at least twice a week since I've started waitressing. Ugh. What is that guy even talking about? What is he ever talking about? Jesus? Feelings? Michigan? Ew.

Also, change your name if that's what your parents gave you. It's easy. You could just reverse it. Steven Sufjan. So much better.

After this test I have a day free to do errands. Then a standup show at the Grog Shop, then I catch the bus downtown at 1 in the morning. And then this fall is sort of officially over. Holiday time, and then beginning my GRAD PROGRAM happens next. Who ever thought this would come? Not me. I lost faith way way way back.

Yeah, so I officially can't complain right now. Everything's great. I get to go on vacation, have a Christmas, and then do this thing I really didn't believe I'd get to do. That may seem really overly dramatic, but....ok, sure, yeah, it is. This is me and my blog. It's overly dramatic. But imagine if this was the inside of your HEAD.

Heroes

Warning: I just drank my morning coffee so this is a very optimistic post. If you notice my posts swing between two extremes, and that follows the time of day they were written (morning posts are happy, afternoon posts are not) and whether I just drank coffee.

Today I've been thinking about the incredible things this Occupy movement has already accomplished, which I didn't see coming at all. And my next thought was "I HAVEN'T DONE ANY OF THAT!" Which we've already discussed, my relentless self centered-ness when it comes to activism. Me me me me me me!

So I think the next step in my maturation might be learning how to really appreciate the stuff other people do. Instead of other people's noble actions being deeply threatening to my sense of my own value.

The way I was taught about social change was through stories of leaders. My middle school participated in a "MLK-Dorothy Day- Gandhi" conference where a bunch of other catholic middle schoolers made big poster boards with badly drawn (but in retrospect, adorably so) portraits of The Big Three with big quotes about Peace next to them.

From a very young age I assumed I would be a great leader. Much like I assumed I would be a very tall woman when I grew up, with slim hips. It seemed my natural place in the universe- I was a talker, I could get very wound up about the things I talked about. Would you believe when I ran for 5th grade class president the whole class cheered wildly for my campaign speech, in which a number of impossible promises were made? So many that even though I won that election, the teacher took me aside to tell me she was giving it to my opponent. My speech may have been about what a farce the fifth grade class presidency was, I'm not sure.

But despite my ability to win class elections, I am very much not a political leader. I'm very much a political follower. Because of those strong emotions and that getting wound up- it's very hard for me to keep on task, or to sustain focus for more than an afternoon. I mean, surely you've noticed that this blog is constant navel gazing? (And will continue to be so.)

But back to other people. I guess I'm saying, good effort liberal Catholic middle school educators, but too much of a focus on individual leaders was no good. Because the leaders of movements matter SO MUCH, but that isn't where most of us are gonna fall and so we need a variety of role models.

And while I admire my friends who are demonstrating their leadership abilities in this time of upheaval, I also want to throw a shout out to all the older folks I know who have turned out not to be great leaders, but faithful and steadfast followers. It's not so glamorous sending a check, it's not so glamorous getting the free calendars, but that money can lay the foundation for more glamorous actions. And taking the day off of work to go the statehouse is a pain and a sacrifice in small ways (specifically your numb butt through the bus ride), but it does do a little something for whatever you're lobbying about.

And it looks like that's the kind of political participant I'm gonna be. The check writer, the lobby day-er, the intermittent protester. So there will always be doubt about whether I've done enough (probably not) or whether I'm a sell-out (no, I'm not willing to bandy that insult about). Whether I backed the right horses. Which it turns out, even if you backed the ineffective horse, if that horse has some money they might fund the effective horse when the effective horse comes along. Or the ineffective horse might be a bastard horse. Live and learn.

Maybe I'll start a monthly club of followers, where we can write and mail our checks together. While eating cinnamon rolls and wearing fuzzy slippers. We'll sponsor an organizer together, and maybe every once in awhile we'll get a picture and a handwritten note from the organizer assuring us that we're good people, even though we are so, so very comfortable and our slippers are so very warm.

Fine, but not doing too well.

You see, I'm waiting for this letter. Waiting for this letter is destroying my life. I yelled at my mother because of this letter. I am avoiding any conversations with my dad until this letter. There's an undertone of dismissive annoyance to my waitressing which has resulted in some fifteen percent tips.

They told me it would come by friday.

There's nothing else to think about. Everything should change after the new year, dependent on me getting this letter and being able to apply for financial aid.

I do not WANT to be patient anymore. I've put in my time. I want to get out of this town, even if only to Akron, and my own place that I could have an overnight guest in. I want a nice bed. I want to take classes that are interesting and relevant to a long term job. A PROFESSION even.

What's scaring me is I can't really imagine it. My life right now just stretches indefinitely into the future. Years and years of living at my parents and saving money for....for some change that will never come.

I need to get this out of my head. Because I work a double today and I need to earn money. Because I'm hanging out with a new person tonight and I can't fixate on this. Because it's the only choice besides being miserable until it comes.

Ugh, I'm dying here. The notion that I have to go interact with the world right now, rather than sleeping through this, is messed up.

Dirty Person Problems

I've been saving money for a car down payment. Because it is time to get a real car, an adult car, a car that I won't ditch in a year because all the brake lines are rusted through. So I've been working a lot. Which is great because this time in between thanksgiving and christmas is the most profitable time to be a waitress. I'm making BANK.

Predictably, I'm now living in squalor, because if I'm not at work I don't want to be moving. It's challenging to live in squalor. Here are the hardest parts: finding clothes to wear to work 2) not thinking about how disgusting your sheets are.

Awakening in squalor creates its own resistance. I wake up in these disgusting sheets and I'd rather not move. Don't get me wrong, I get up for coffee, I just bring it back to bed. Then I leave the coffee cup on my bed stand for up to a week. When I have my own place again I'm gonna put the coffee pot on my bed stand. It'll be one of those coffee pots with a timer, so the smell of coffee can be my alarm clock.

It's also way past time to buy some new clothes. My black skinny pants ripped at least a half foot on the left thigh. My bras look like they have ptsd. (Is anyone offended? I don't know about these things anymore.)

Speaking of, I wore a sports bra to work yesterday and went out after, and a friend told me she could tell I was wearing a sports bra. Does that mean my customers noticed the sports bra? Is that really unacceptable, serving in a sports bra? It's just I'm tirrrrrreeed. Also I hate bras, and a sports bra is the closest I can come to not being filled with rage at underwires and straps that dig into my shoulders. UGH BRAS. I don't like any piece of clothing that leaves red marks.

Guys, I just really need to get it together. Change my sheets, throw out clothes, fold the ones I'm gonna keep and take them off the top of my dresser. Also vacuum. I really wanted to wait until after christmas to buy new pants, but I might not be able to make it. And definitely new bras. UGH GOOD BRAS ARE 50 BUCKS EACH. Damn.

Ok, I'm gonna get started on this path of self improvement or basic hygiene. Have a good sunday.