hipsterdom

sometimes i wish i was a hipster.
because they seem pretty cool.
but i only have one pair of skinny jeans and and i graduated from byu.

and i don't cut my own hair and have pretty dorky musical preferences.

but i do like this american life.
and i usually wear that pair of skinny jeans at least one time a week, even though i think they make my feet look like clown feet, never mind my analysis of how they don't always flatteringly contour my legs.

i think i just perceive hipsters as possessing a little more reckless abandon than me.
i'm not a terribly organized or anal-retentive person, but i am a devastatingly acheivement-oriented person. i think that things have to have an outcome and i have to be mapping a course to successfulville with every action i take.

once i told my little sister's hipster friends (and Randi may actually be able to claim the title 'hipster') that i had a lyrical soul. and the asked me if i wrote songs or poetry and when i responded no they just sort of glanced quizzically at me. i don't know why i said i had a lyrical soul. i just felt that i did at the moment and needed to share. but maybe my lyrical soul is caged by my rational self and those hipsters couldn't tell that deep down i was one of them.

actually, her friends may have been more emo, was emo the precursor to the hipster? or have they always been distinct and separate? is a hipster just a slightly happier emo (with the male equivalent growing a beard instead of donning eyeliner)? these are important social questions here.

and this is effectively a late night rant that i will wonder what possessed me to push publish in the morning. but i'll publish it anyway drunk off of late-night, exhaustion-induced uninhibitedness.