The plague of locusts

I sit here alone in Sam's dorm room, surrounded by people, all dreaming of sugar plums, wrapped in each other's arms, with only sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional buzz of a cell phone as the friends of my friends start to wake up and pray that my snoozing fellow snoozers are indeed awake, as they are not. For you know, it is a day of prayer, seeing as it is Sonday.

And the friends of the one typing are slowly coming to their senses. The boys, every boy, is awake and moving about, being loud, being manly, in their underpants and singing "Wizard of Oz." And laughing like hobgoblins, apparently.... Oh, it is such a weird day in such a hipster town where I feel anything but hipster walking down the street in unmatched patterns, boots, tights, greens socks (barely visible). 

I was feeling totally hipster because Sam said we were heading to a hipster gathering. I stand corrected. I am not a hipster in a town as hipster as Austin, only in the coming-of-age towns such as Tuscaloosa and Huntsville.

The indie culture has me beat. But today is a new day.  I will prevail! I will look like a hipster, even if I am not a true one. There's something about my style that is not hipster - it's not grunge enough - but it cannot be classified as anything else. Even my yellow headband...it doesn't make me hipster in the most hipster of crowds...like last night.