I have nothing better to do with my lazy Sunday night then sit in the coffee shop and people watch.
Nothing of relevance happened this week to post about, really. I turned 19. Not to sound cynical, but big whoop. It’s no more or less exciting being 19 than it is 18. I didn’t magically become a little older, a little more beautiful. I did the same BS as I do every other day, every other week. Overate, drove erratically, spent way too much money, cried, procrastinated on homework but managed to get it done by the end of the weekend. Skipped a little more class than usual because of a small mental breakdown on Wednesday night. Regular college stuff, really.
Honestly, I am such a lame-o, generic hipster right now, it is killing me. I’m sitting in a college coffee shop, blogging about my goddamn week as a white girl at a private school on a macbook air, with my lame Ray-ban glasses (which are prescription, thanks for asking; I’d be close to legally blind without these) and my lame hipster canvas backpack with handmade heart pins that say things like “nope” and “babe,” and “just stop,” wearing an outfit that’s entirely thrifted, aside from my shoes, which are TOMS.
If you look at me, I’m scowling the generic hipster mad-about-life, everyone-is-lame-but-me scowl. However, this scowl is not for those reasons. It is for these reasons:
1. It is my natural expression because I have chronic Brooklyn Bitchface. It’s in my genes. Thanks, dad.
2. I am not displeased with the world so much as just myself, and I am definitely the lamest person in this room. It’s super contradictory: I like myself right now, but also I really effing hate myself because good god, I am everything I wanted to be in high school. And that’s gross.
I look so insanely lame I almost can’t even handle it. Yet I continue to sit here and write this like the boring hipster teenager I am because I should be doing better and more interesting things, but I’m not. I could be reading a good book, or actually ordering a goddamn coffee, or watching the movie the rest of my friends are watching. However, I had homework to do, so I skipped the movie and finished a paper in the library (so lame, I am so lame), and now I’m just killing time by looking like an ass in public, texting my boyfriend, and listening to Iron and Wine. Yippee.
What will I do tomorrow? Will I somehow suck less? I’m not sure.
This is what I do know: don’t judge the generic hipster bitch in the coffee shop by her external scowl and weird shoes. She is actually probably a really interesting person under that thick outer layer of nonchalance. She probably really wants to make new friends but is bad at talking to people out of the blue in public places. She knows you’re looking at her with either admiration (because sadly, just like high school Sarah, there are people who want to look like I do now) or disgust because of the stereotype she’s exuding. But she’s not all bad. She has valid opinions, she likes her bagels a certain way, she still knocks on wood when she’s afraid of bad luck, and she’s quietly playing Clash of Clans with her boyfriend while nobody’s looking.
She may look unapproachable, but she’s trying to fix that, too.