Othering hipsters

So I'm super-into blogging again (thanks to the nice feedback of my readers, particularly Ayana). I was going to find a coffee shop and hang there, since I love being a coffee shop bum more than anything as regular readers know, but it's yucky and raining right now and I'm enjoying sitting on the chair we got off the street and watching the DVR'd Colbert Show interview Craig of Craigslist, so I'm not. But I will coffee shop soon and give a Williamsburg coffee shop analysis of course.

But I promise when I do that coffee shop analysis, I won't refer to people as "hipsters." Since living in Williamsburg, not surprisingly I've been thinking and talking a lot about hipsters. Well, after hearing other people who loook, act and talk like what I consider a hipster talking derogatorally (sp?) about this same population, I realized I'm going to stop. This is a completely stupid conversation had only by people who have some stake in defining what a hipster is. When my dad came to move me in, I tried to point out hipsters to him on the street, and he said, "Everyone looks normal to me" because he has no stake in this discusssion. The only people who care who is/isn't a hipster are people who are close enough to that line

It's the same way when I was younger I always talked about who was/wasn't jappy, but Katie hadn't even heard the word jap until she came to college, since she didn't know any jews, and even after she obviously learned the definition at Northwestern, I doubt she used the term as much I have. And how my friends who are 1st generation Americans often refer to others as fobs, but I've maybe used that world maybe 5 times in my life. Because I'm pretty secure with my place as an American, so I feel no need to define others as not-as-much.

oooh, to use all my social science education, this is all about othering. I don't have to define myself as long as I'm defining everyone else and defining myself as "not it."

And at least I find it much easier to define other people then define myself. I don't know if other people feel liek this about themselves, but I think I'm so weird I can't be put into any one category, but I guess that's totally narcisistic in a way. Thoughts to ponder.

Blogging from work

As I'm sitting at work at 9pm on a Thursday night, waiting for my editor to call me back to tell me I'm missing a comma in the copy, because, well, that's my life and I've come to accept it, I figured I'd blog. I totally could go home, and probably should, but I don't want to have to finish work at home. I want to go home and be DONE, particularly because I have a 4 day weekend! Also, my roommate's job (seriously, it actually is her job, I'm not being condescending) is watching Celebrity Rap Superstar, so until I have wireless in my room, I can't really do my work until she does hers.

Basically yesterday I just started FREAKING out about all the work I had and articles I had to write and I felt like Jessie Spano in the caffeine pill episode. Not sure why, I always have a lot of work, but I was literally on the verge of tears. At this rally for single-payer healthcare I had to cover, there was a typical crazy activist yelling at the crowd on Bryant Park, "Houseslaves go away!" Normally I'd just ignore such crazies, but yesterday since I myself was so crazy I went up to this man and said, "Excuse me, you realize you're alienating people with your message?" He kind of laughed me off, as he should, since who the hell am I to tell a crazy activist what their message should be?

Anyway, I think my editor realized I was literally going mad. That plus attending my party I think he realized I'm working quite hard for a 22 year old, and other than Rosh Hashanah haven't had more than one day off since June. So he graciously gave me Friday and Monday off.
I guess that's what they call, "mental health days."

I seriously like my job and feel lucky I have it (thoguh I think I said, I would never mention its name here, because that would be SO EMBARASSING if google blog alerts picked my blog up and all these randos at work saw it), except for days I go crazy like yesterday and times like right now when I'm not done with work.

I was like, I should have grand plans for my long weekend, but then I stopped to think. Shit, I'm kind of a grown-up now. I need to use these days to do things that I don't have time to do when I'm working. Go shopping. Set up wireless. Scope out a couch from Craigslist. Whatever, I'm not complaining, and I'm excited to have a bit of free time, buuuut I am just such a working person now. It's so weird.

yay, editor just got back to me. I am done. ttyl

Freshman in life

I'm posting on a Saturday night, so my friendly stalker can know that staying in a weekend night is nothing to be ashamed of, though I usually totally am embarassed like I couldn't handle making plans 2 nights a week, buuuut I'm not embarassed tonight since I think I'm starting to get to a point in my life where I'm fairly secure in the fact that I'm not a loser so if I stay in some nights it's not because I COULDN'T make a few calls and have a life, it's because I don't really want to. Also, I'm just happy to be home recovering from our house-warming party yesterday.

The party was pretty great, despite the fact that the apartment was not-quite housewarming ready, like that we didn't have a wine-opener so we now have 6 bottles of wine guests brought in the fridge.About 30 people crammed into our apartment. It was so great hearing from people I care about "Your apartment's so nice!" "Your roommate's so cool!" "You're so lucky to live in this neighborhood!" "Your apartment's huge!" (a comment that would never describe the apt if it were anywhere other that nyc)to help me validate my life choices. And it was also fun seeing childhood friends mingle with high school friends mingle with college friends mingle with work friends.And although a few of us went to a bar afterwards, it was so nice having a legit party, reminiscent of those old college days, where you can just hang out and drink without paying a cover.

And, dare I say it, I'm just really happy right now and excited about this next stage of my life. It just hit me today, as I was on the bus back from a hangover brunch and Apples to Apples with Sara and her WashU friends who live in Greenpoint, that my social network is only going to expand, and I feel like with all the friends and friends of friends it can happen organically. It's not like before where I was limited essentially to the people in my tiny network. Now ALL OF NYC can be my social network (or at least anyone that lives within walking distance of the L or JMZ subway lines).

And that goes for dating too. Even though I've always wanted a relation, I've kind of never truly believed I would have a girlfriend and it's been (and still is) a legit fear that I'll never experience love or a real relationship or any of the things that are supposedly really amazing/painful/80% of pop culture. And while it will take some serious effort on my part to get over my awkwardness/insecurities and be confident, flirty, etc., today it kind of dawned on me for I think really the first time that dating is something that I can do, and that I really want to do and something that I'll need to make a priority in my life, and that being alone has in some ways been a choice because I haven't really "put myself out there" as they say.

So yeah, on that note of opening up my soul to all the blog's readers, I don't want to jinx it, but I'll just sayI'm just optimistic about the future but now I'm going to bed.

I might join a lesbian gang

Today I moved into my apartment! It's great/weird/etc. and so far everything has gone well. Except one thing. So I'm on a street that from first glace seems 75% Latino families and 25%hipster-types (as opposed to 5 blocks down the street, where I had a delicious brunch, where it seems that demographic is reversed). Both of of parents were moving me in, so I of course felt about 12 years old as my parents did everything.

But ANYWAY, my mom reported back to me that she "probably shouldn't even tell me this" but obviously she did, that as she was talking to the super, a man of about 60 who currently has two teeth and until what I'm about to tell you I thought was very nice. Probably because of the lack of white faces walking down the street, my mother kept questioning the super, about 'how safe is the neighborhood?.' The super assured her the nieghborhood was great except...wait for it..."there's a lesbian problem." Apparently a lot of dykes had been terrorizing the neighborhood and beat up another member of the street's super-mafia.

My mom didn't say anything courageous like "My daughter happens to be a lesbian and she is one of your paying tenants and I could sue your ass" and I don't know if I would have been able to say that either so I really shouldn't judge since I've found it's hard to stand up to bigotry when it's personal, and not just an abstract injustice against someone else.

So I don't fault my mom for that but what I DO fault her and my father for is what I'm about to tell you next. As my parents were leaving, they each give me $20 to give to the super to bribe him to be nice to me. This man, aside for making me feel uncomfortable and being a homophobic asshole, didn't even help us carry in a single box!

SO instead of continuing to argue with my parents about how this man is not geting another penny from us, I realized the most beneficial solution for everyone (except the unsuper super) would in, in a silent protest against homophobic supers everywhere, I am KEEPING the $40 my parents gave me. I'm thinking of splitting the money with the lesbians in my neighborhood so I can do my part.

I'm moving!

Those of your who really enjoyed my "Westchester bar reviews!" should not hold your breath for part #2, since I am moving to NYC(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) where bars are already reviewed on Yelp.com. Specifically on I'm moving on Sunday to Williamsburg, Brooklyn, with Crystal, a really cool girl from Northwestern in a small-but-not-uncomfortably so-apartment. For those of you nonnewyorkophile out-of-towners, Williamsburg is a really fun area a stop outside Manhattan, that was formerly Hasidic Jew/Latino, and has in recent years been replaced by hipsters.

Now, people always use the terms "gentrification" derogatorally...often by those who are responsible for the gentrification. I am aware that I am an instrument in gentrification, and I think I'm okay with this, though it feels a little wrong to pay DOUBLE what the people before me did (because it was rent-controlled and market value has gone way up).

We looked at an apartment in a sketchy part of Bushwick that real estate agents are trying to call "East Williamsburg." Now, maybe in 5 years this area will be just as fun and hip and safe as Williamsburg, but let me tell you, it's not now. A little boy pulled a gun on me. Ok, it was a fake gun, but it looked VERY REAL! Note: my children will have no guns that are not supersoakers.

The point is, I've decided I want to pay a few dollars to be the beneficiary of gentrification. I'm not from the pioneers. I'm not cut out to go to a new neighborhood of old people and families that don't speak English, to be the gentrification to make the neighborhood safe for future generations of white kids from Westchester.

Until then I am super-excited to drink PBR at bars that have already been established. yayy!