To be or not to be a hipster?

I've been thinking a lot about hipsters today after I came across this website of definitions of hipsters. It's basically a site where people on both sides, hipster and anti-hipster, put each other down.

I myself first began to form a disdainful opinion of these so-called cool kids (I mean, deck kids) when I dj'd at my college radio station. I got really tired of people putting down other people's musical tastes just because it made them feel better. It seemed like a college-level version of junior high and high school politics. To make yourself feel better you put others down... Using negative space to build positive space?

Anyhow, over the past couple of years of growing up, taking care of myself, paying bills, and living in a city... It kinda got worse. My disdain that is... I hate to admit it now, but I was so tired of people putting me down because I lived in Arlington instead of in the actual District... I can't afford to live in the city proper, I have a husband and a tuition bill to pay for. My husband's a designer and I work in the museum field... not exactly rolling in money. I would spend time justifying my real estate decision with little facts about how Arlington used to be part of the District until Virginia requested it back. I may not be in the city, but I was living on land that used to technically be part of it.

And then... I realized how retarded I was being. I was still going to listen to my Wilco albums even if they had been included on an American Eagle compilation CD. I was also going to continue living in Arlington. Why? Because I like Wilco and I can't afford to live in Dupont Circle. And besides, isn't it a little self-involved to think that my musical tastes really matter that much to the nameless hipster? And if it does matter? Well that's really sad for them, because I'm just a nerdy girl who lives on the west side of the Potomac.

I know I've devoted a blog entry to the subject, but my real point, is why does it fucking matter anyhow? In the end, our lives are not about what music we listened to or how we dressed in our twenties or if we were "deck" or not. It matters how we treated our friends, family, and pets. My grandkids aren't going to care if I had my nose pierced other than the fact that I'll always have a hole there. And they certainly aren't going to care if I wore pre-Nike or post-Nike Chucks. They're going to care that I was nice to them and loved them.

So everybody, get the fuck over yourselves.

PS As a caveat, if you saw me on the street or looked at my music collection, you'd probably think I was a hipster... so I'm not just hating what I don't know.

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UPS and Death Metal

So, I've been sitting at home all day waiting for the UPS man to come and pick up the Pyrex set that got broken when being shipping back from the wedding. All day. Waiting. And this is the not the first day I've been waiting. I sat at home all day on Wednesday as well. Waiting. All for a $14 Pyrex set. I could have made money at work, but no, I'm waiting.

Admist all this excitement, I found a funny little short on McSweeney's website about a death metal bandmember's inner thoughts as captured in his diary. Funny stuff, when one is waiting.

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Swedish Genius

To Whom It May Concern,

David and I are going to IKEA today. This is my goodbye letter. I don't expect to return quickly, if at all. Please don't forget me. Know that I am in a happy place.

Elizabeth

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