Those Three Hipsters, You Are the Kanye West To My Taylor Swift.

[Warning: this is a stereotypical piece of writing. I know not all people of this genre are like this. It sounds mean and I'm sorry.]

Everyone has seen those kids, experienced their superior attitudes, heard them chuckling about your shoes and feel their bikes speed past you. They’ve been called Indie Kids., The “Fixi Kids” or the Hipsters. You know, those guys who wear tight jeans, so tight you wonder how they can sit down and cross their legs in class. They have all different colors of plaid flannel that looks like they just threw it on after visiting the thrift store or grabbed it from Grandpa’s closet.

I have, on more than one occasion, been laughed at by these boys for the most trivial reasons. These boys that drive their fixed-speed bikes, like cavemen on bulls steering the curved horns. They stroll into class after flicking their cigarette butt and slip into the seat next to you, their beards shinning with fresh sweat and food from lunch. They pull out their pocket notebooks, scribble a couple lines from the lecture and look at you as if they know something you don’t.

“How could she wear a football jersey to class?” I also wear the same brand of shoes as you. I have worn that brand since 8^th grade. You’re not special just because you have worn the same pair since 8^th grade.

“She likes Death Cab For Cutie? I bet she liked them after they were on that stupid T.V. drama. What a sell out.” Actually I liked Death Cab before “The O.C.”. Just because I shower and wear my school colors does not mean I have bad taste in music. I go to the same Indie music shows as you. I like The New Pornographers and The House Floor. Everyone has a different reason for what music means to them. It does not matter whether I wear Greek letters, or die my hair black or wear bandanas on my head. It doesn’t matter.

Just because you work at a Vegan restaurant and have never see me come in before doesn’t mean I love animal cruelty. I ride a bike too. It’s just a mountain bike. I can read a poem and understand the same symbolism as you. Just because you wear different clothes, have different means of transportation and listen to music that has not been in recorded in a studio does not mean you are better than me. So when I ask you for an interview next time, if I do ask you a next time, maybe think twice before laughing in my face. I could have given you the opportunity to tell people how you think and your new ideas for changing the world because that seems to be what you are going for. But instead you hopped on your bike with your rolled up pant leg and went about your day.

I know not every boy wearing tight jeans and the cozy button-downs are all like this but some are. I do meet everyone as an individual and give my own judgments based on that, not your clothes or your bike. But these few individuals seem to think that because of these small factors, they can treat me as a child instead of a fellow student that has thoughts, feelings and a fine taste in music.

(posted after I wrote it)

Today I am in Atlanta, Georgia for the Virginia Tech vs. Georgia Tech game. Two friends and I left Blacksburg at around 3:00pm and got to the hotel around 11pm. While we were driving last night, passing the pine trees and the 18-wheelers, I realized two things.

First, I am a college student who can leave in the middle of the day and drive to a different state to just watch a football game. I have less than two years to do things like this. I have a meal plan, my bills are paid for me and the only thing I have to complain about is too many exams and ESPN still ragging on Tech even though we are 5-1. I worked for three months this summer and can live on that money for nine. I have the best friends and boy friend that any one can ask for. They are my Hokie family. They support me in what I do, and would help me whenever I need it. They help balance me and know how to take some of the burden away when I am overwhelmed. I don’t know where I will end up after college, but I hope I still have some sort of relationship with all of these people.

The second realization stems from an event that I saw happen at one of these barred gas stations. We stopped to get gas and found one of the sketchiest (most sketchy?) gas station I have ever seen. They specialized in money orders, and apparently inside there were patrons scratching their lotto tickets at the counter to use their winnings to buy more lotto tickets. Anyway, while I was waiting in the car I saw a woman and her probably 5-year-old daughter leaving the store holding two, foot-long Slim Jims. The mother got into her white car and started it. I thought her daughter would get into the back. But instead, she skipped to the other side of the car and climbed in the front seat. Then before she could clip her seat belt, wait, before she could even sit down, her mother started accelerating, and the little girl’s braided head slammed against the passenger seat as they drove away.

The mother inside of me was appalled at this one event. And I thought of my mother and how she raised us. She sacrificed her entire life to put us through school and to take care of my sister and I the best she could. Even last week, she came up to Blacksburg from Va. Beach and took care of my sister when she was sick. She sacrificed her vacation at a lake house to take care of a daughter that lied to her days before. After working more than 24 hours straight at the hospital, she came home and raised a 5 year old and a 7 year old on her own. She made sure we were well clothed, well fed, and loved no mater what it took. I just want to thank her for raising me and never putting me in the passenger seat without a seat belt.

Testing, Check. Is this thing on?

So this is my first blog post. I don't know if there is a format, or what people expect me to write about. My teacher in Media Writing basically forced every student in his class to get a blog. Almost everyday he tells us that 500,00 people are full time bloggers. They receive a bi-weekly pay check to express their opinions. Opinions people might not care about and blogging is their only job. They could write from the toilet and kick puppies in their free time yet they have a full time job. And 2 million people are part time bloggers. 2.5 people get paid to write about anything they want. Thus, if we have blogs then we have a better chance at getting a job.

Since I am a junior in college, with an economy that sucks, this gives me a leg up. My teacher also said that we should have Facebooks and Twitters. He told us that some companies will not even give us second glances, will throw our resumes in the trash, will laugh at us around the water cooler if we do not have more than 2000 followers on either site. They think: How is this twenty- something kid fresh from college suppose to market our company if she can't even market herself?

First of all, I don't know 2000 people by name. Second, I don't want 2000 people to know me, and to be interested in what I am doing at all hours of the day. I can definitely friend strangers for a company and make them interested in products or events, but I will leave the stalkers to Jessica Simpson and Anderson Cooper.

I am pretty sure this blog is suppose to be about one subject that I am interested in being an expert in. I am not an expert in anything. But I do think a lot so I will probably be able to fill this thing up with writing. Most of the time, it will be ranting about society in general. Tonight I am annoyed at the person who took up two parallel spaces on the curb. Not only did he/she take up a good two spaces, the blue Jetta is parked the wrong way. So I had to park about 1/3 of a mile away. But I get over it quickly and will probably park the same place next weekend. Hopefully Tech will at least look presentable tomorrow in football. Go Hokies!