hipsters

I cuff my pants like this guy. Oh, and I let my stripy socks peek out, too.

Some would say I'm a hipster (Need A Definition? Click Here). And it would only make me more of a hipster to say that I am not. But here are some things about me, hipster or not, that are tried and true:


Shakespeare was my first love, J.D. Salinger came next. But it's more of a polygamist thing. As in, Shakespeare is not my "ex." Then came Bob Dylan.


I enjoy listening to vinyl (very 'hip'), but did not come to it until my boyfriend introduced me. Speaking of, my boyfriend is awesome at Plants versus Zombies, recovering from injuries, and ultimate frisbee. Oh, and he built me an amazing fixed gear bicycle. So, I guess we're a hipster couple?


I am writing this post at The Bitter End Coffeehouse, drinking a Cafe au Lait, listening to Ella Fitzgerald, about to write (in pen!) my dear friend Marcela after texting my dad on my iPhone. 


I prefer "old" to "new," most of the time - i.e. vintage clothing or furniture (though I can usually only afford the Target knock-offs of such items) to American Eagle; classic jazz to Lady Gaga; old books with awesomely embossed hard covers to new design-y paperbacks, etc. (Examples of "new" that I like: new milk, new babies, my new license that states I am now a horizontal resident of Michigan).


My favorite movies are spoken in French or written intelligently or both.


My dad has an iPad, and he knows how to use his iPhone better than I know how to use mine.


I secretly wish (whelp! not a secret anymore!) that I could paint or draw or do something artistic really well. I dabble in it, but nothing I am confident enough to share. (See: the absence of any piece of artwork I have done... hey, I said I wasn't confident enough!)


I have about... a million coffee mugs. And fully intend on purchasing more. 


My teapot (ahem, sorry... Elliot's teapot), my french press, and my coffee maker are my three favorite kitchen machines. I say 'machine' because they literally work enough to say they work like machines. 


My major entails me to be proactive in feminist literature, to think deeply, to develop theories about society, and to write... a lot. I love it, every minute of it. My minor entails me to consider how I will take little to no money and help people with little to no money. Basically just one hipster just helping another hipster out.


I feel a need to copy edit almost any piece of written work. 


I am moving to Portland to study at a midwifery school for three years and I've decided to sell my car to get there. No worries, my fixie and public transit will take care of me.


When I'm bored I play around on Photoshop or InDesign (that's how my blog's background came to be). 


I store random things in pretty mugs, painted tins, and Ball Jars.






So, this is just a short list (if you can believe that) of random things about me that are hipster-like or just things about me that I thought someone, somewhere would be interested in.


And, if after reading this you still or even more so classify me as a hipster, all I have to say is, "you could have done better but I don’t mind." Sorry if I wasted your precious time just to affirm your already solid view of me :) 


From one phony to the next, 
SSB

thoughts about decisions

Life has presented me with a series of difficult decisions recently.

And, I feel like such a fool for not knowing the obvious answers.

I feel like such a fool for not being able to develop an obvious formula.


And all of this foolishness has made me question destiny. Perhaps question is the wrong word. What I am doing with the idea of destiny is more about exploring. What feels right, for me, about destiny?

And all of this exploring sure gets in the way of decision making.

Eh, that's destiny for you I guess.

then and now

Notice: the red lipstick, not that it doesn't jump out or anything, highlighting my prized braces; the gray blazer, courtesy of my mother's 80s collection; and the blue shirt that features two birds and reads below the crop, "love conquers hate." I'm sitting with Sarah, fellow cellist, happily awaiting rehearsal at Hill Auditorium. The time this picture was taken was right around the dawn of a new age: the social media era. I had a blog, I was moving away from myspace at this point, and shortly after this photo was taken - my coveted invite to join Facebook from Sarah came via email.

Not much has changed since 9th grade. I still wear red lipstick on occasion, though the braces are gone. I still have in my possession the gray blazer, though I rarely wear it. And, well, I outgrew the blue shirt but I still have a magnetic pull to basically anything with a bird on it (see: Put A Bird On It). As for my future, it pretty much follows the "love conquers hate" concept (at least I'd like to think so).

The real difference between these two photos, besides knowing now how to crop a photo as to not feature my large forehead, is that then I had all the faith in the world that Facebook meant community. Then, I thought, Facebook equivocated maturity and broke away from the ever-juvenile myspace.

But that faith is gone. Facebook was nice, for a while, but then it became basically a way to "creep" on people - and this creeping isn't secretive or in any way thought of as actual stalking (though in some cases, I am sure it has been). Snooping on photos and wall posts and shared links became a way of seeing where a person has gone in life, and most people are hooked. Even the advertisements started to creep on me - they somehow always knew what I was thinking or doing. I am sure you computer geeks have a name for this, but I think it is just invasive.

So, despite having access to status updates, notes, photos, videos, event invitations, and so much more priceless data all wrapped up in one location, I am saying goodbye. Au reviour, Facebook! Facebook, you have given me a great and entertaining locale to waste hours of time, but in those hours I have become closer to no one, really. The interesting thing about social media is that it changed technology from allowing one person to communicate to many, to many to communicate to many (watch: One to many - Many to many about 2:20 to 4:10). And though the idea of a community where each individual can be heard is intriguing, something happens when everyone talks at the same time: nothing gets heard.

For example, my best friends from elementary school and through high school - I have no idea "where" most of them are in life. Sure, I can read they are in Muskegon or East Lansing or back in Traverse City, but really location has nothing to do with where one's soul is, or how a physical changing of location has influenced a change in heart. Maybe I could have utilized Facebook to answer these burning questions, but I was too busy trying to compile the answers by looking at their every photo. I felt updated when they updated their statuses. And how false is that?

Facebook is great for many things, but not for me anymore. But part of becoming older and wiser is recognizing the difference between following something because it's where everyone else is going, or following something because it's where your heart is.

My heart is right here, in my words. My heart is in connecting on a deeper level with those I care deeply for. My heart need not be clouded by the murkiness and false-community Facebook has to offer. And, evermore, my heart is open to find its own way.

Love conquers hate,
SSB

my title

I realize many may not know the origin of my blog's title. So, here it is:


if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one

one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we go who)
one's everyanything so

so world is a leaf is a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now

now i love you and you love me
(and books are shutter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we

we're everything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one

- e.e. cummings -

So, why this poem? I'm not sure. I have always loved it, its motion, its feeling, its existence. I think I chose this poem because I imagine a perfect life - my perfect life - to be in the state that this poem exists. 

Why this line - "one hasn't a why or because or although" - for my title? Because I don't, in fact, have a why or because or although. At least not for the biggest questions in life. So, join me on my search?

SSB