Tag Archives: free

Anti-hipster

Just because I’ve seen seen a few things lately, I feel as though I need to clarify it again:

Hipsters, by definition, cannot have ‘a look’ nor can they absorb and start following a trend:
Plaid.
Unkepmt beards.
Unstarbucks.
‘Raising awareness.’
Gluten free.
Referring to ‘The Universe’ as a diety. Eg: “the universe was good to me today. All the lights were green!” “Thank the universe!”
Craft beer (whatever the hell that means (that’s a problem for another day (these parenthesis are becoming disruptive to my point (yup, that last one did it (more like overdid it))))

…The point is we associate these traits with hipsters, but really these folks just hop on the train and are some of the most unhipstery people out there. Don’t blame hipsters for this very, very odd culture generally specific to the Pacific Northwest.

The real hipsters remain hidden in plain daylight, disguised as a normal person with no defined style or statement, walking amongst us as they set the trends we, or, ‘those obnoxious people,’ do not yet recognize, but will inevitably be subjected to. Who are they? We may never know, and we may never find out… and we may never give a crap either.

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YOLO

YOLO

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Avocado Refrigerator

We can’t attempt to compartmentalize things in life; put the oranges here, the greens in a separate fridge with a different humidity than the cheese will allow, and give the avocados get their own special fridge. Of course each food has its own ideal way it can be stored to maintain optimum freshness and maximize shelf life, but if you catered to the specific needs of each individual food, you’d exhaust your resources, your expenses, and yourself by all the running around you’d have to do just to make dinner. You might think you’re doing a good job of organizing, and this might happen elsewhere, too. “There’s too many files in this folder. I know–I’ll give them all their own folder!” So now instead of fixing the problem, there’s “too many folders in this drawer! I can’t find anything!”

While trying to be fair to the food, you are being unfair to yourself. You need to treat yourself with some respect; and actually by stuffing everything into the same fridge at a uniform temperature and humidity, it’s more respectful to the food too. No one gets special treatment so they know not to ask for it. It’s nothing unusual; it’s just the best option. The food might whine and complain, but who doesn’t complain every once in a while? The food doesn’t care if you do anything about its complaints, it just wants to vent. You might say, “This quinoa is going straight to my hips,” and then eat it anyway. Same thing. Otherwise, if you cater to every food and try to please them all with their own special climate, it won’t work; it never does. And all you’ll be left with is an empty avocado refrigerator.

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Goodbye

Two people lived on a small man-made island just off the shore of the mainland. These two residents were not the only people on this island, but they lived alone. The residents were both on a schedule, both lived through their days as a series of habits, and were both looking for love (trust me. I’m an omniscient narrator). They both worked hard and found comfort in a solid routine as the foundation for a ‘good life,’ and thus were both bound by their schedules — “imprisoned” might be a better word.

A unique feature of this island is that it was a perfect circle with a sidewalk that hugged the perimeter. There were twelve equally spaced streets radiating from a where a big clock tower stood in the heart of the town. You could keep track of the time from almost anywhere on the island, as our two residents would frequently do.

You see, even time is man-made. Not the concept of time, but how we choose to restrict ourselves with it. Seconds. Hours. Years — don’t tell me nothing lasts forever. I don’t want to hear it.

Every morning these two residents would wake up at the same time, step onto the same sidewalk, turn right, and walk clockwise until they came back to where they started. Their schedules wove together like two gears — however, they lived on opposite sides of the island and always walked clockwise at the same time. What these two residents didn’t realize, and would never come to realize, is that this ordinary, scheduled walk was so precise, so routine, and so expected, that the absence of anticipation surrounding it drew about as much attention to the walk as you will give to your next breath, which is extraordinary. Extraordinarily dull.

It is still unclear to me, the omniscient narrator, whether the two residents scheduled to walk each morning, or whether they walked because the schedule told them to. Of course, the residents think to be in complete control, and that is why they stick to the schedule — the sense of order and control — but from the outside looking in, it seems as if control was simply an illusion created by the predictability of a clock.

When you do something so much, you don’t even know what you’re missing anymore; you just assume it’s not there.

Our two residents would wake up every day, go on their clockwise walk, and eventually fall asleep in the same bed they woke up in, and repeated this controlled, scheduled, living habit for so many days that the memories of the past years of this routine congealed into one solitary memory. One day, one of the residents noticed they looked older, felt older, and consequently tried to recall how that happened, but could only come to the conclusion that “time flies.” It was at this time, I, the omniscient narrator, decided this resident decided to go for a walk that morning. The same walk as always, but upon this day this resident choose to walk counterclockwise as a gesture of change, as a way to motivate this resident to start breaking the very routine that this resident had resided in for so long.

It was free. It was clear. It was new. Surely memories would be made on this day as the two residents approached each other around the bend of the man-made island. They were destined to meet. As their paths crossed, they greeted each other with a congenial smile accompanied by a neighborly “hello,” and kept on walking down the path without breaking stride, or their respective schedules. A whole history of new possibilities came into existence on that unclockwise walk, and then disappeared as simply as the path on which they walked curved out of sight around the island, and disappeared without the memory of even saying ‘goodbye.’

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It seems like the glutton free diet would be the one that works best.

It’s pronounced gluten. Not glutton.

Oh. Well what’s the point of that?

I don’t know. Tell you to avoid something so all you can do is think about it.

Hmm, seems a bit cruel.

Why? You should be able to control what goes into your mouth.

Not that. I mean diets; do any of these diets even work?

They say they do.

It just seems like if a diet worked than only one diet book would sell, but they don’t, so hundreds get made and people keep buying diet book after diet book… It just seems a bit cruel.

Then so are batteries. People keep buying them even though they know they won’t last.

But that’s way different.

No it isn’t. Do you really think people would change if one book had all the answers?

…Maybe.

People want to keep thinking the next book they pick up has the answer their looking for. It’s not cruel; it’s what keeps them running. Let them run.

Hmm, then I guess they’ll at least get some exercise.

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Record

I got an audio recorder and figured I’d try to record myself singing just to see what I sound like. I sang a warm up song loud and free, but made a few mistakes. When it came time to press record I found myself holding back because I didn’t want to make any mistakes, but subsequently my singing sounded timid and unimpressive — safe. No one wants to listen to something safe, they want to hear something new and exciting and dynamic and emotional, even if there are parts of it that are awful. I’m just going to say it: the point of life is to sing your lungs out, mess up a few times, and be proud of what you’ve done by the time you hit the last note and listen to the playback.

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