Alpha to Omega

It’s really a toss-up. I mean, either you end up toting around a plastic Hello Kitty purse and going to dance clubs on the weekend or you take on left-wing causes and a strong love of indie bands. It’s really the same thing isn’t it?

I’m not talking about all of us. I’m talking about the girl who thought she was so hip. She thought she had it all because she went to a show and bought a CD that other people told her to like and thought it was ok because most people had never heard of them before. But, they weren’t all that good; they were trendy the way Rage Against the Machine is trendy to kids who want to pretend to have political convictions. And I offered her a deal on the opening band’s CD as well. And I was greeted with what was probably the most supercilious look I have ever received. Not that I’ve never received that look before, I have received it many times.

I always receive it from people like the girl who thought she was so hip. Do you know these people? So you can agree then–it really is a coin toss. Either you go to art school and feel self-important about not being a part of the mainstream or you go to business school and try to take over the world. With convictions such as these, why should the mainstream and the right-wing take us at all seriously—they shouldn’t. Why are you so suspicious? Is this not why the righteous right seems like the majority right now? Of course! Because you are far too busy shunning people and feeling superior and petting your self-important egos within your tiny little cliques that you fail to see we would get a whole lot more done if we were to band together.


I’ve read a lot of blogs by people who think they’re so hip. They are always in attack mode—flippant and saintly because they ride a bike everywhere and recycle. They make me angry because people like these like to try and make you feel so trivial, even if you’re on the same side; alienating people is important when you’re trying to make a difference. I certainly wasn’t going to hang out with the jocks in high school, I have nothing in common with them, but hanging out with the outcasts meant passing a fucking quiz first. What was Kurt Cobain’s middle name? Well, jesus…I think that falls under the who the fuck cares category. There was a guy named Leo that had this crush on me in the tenth grade. We had a class together and would goof off in the back and get yelled at by the teacher. Then, the next year, Leo started organizing charity shows with local bands and dying his hair blue and wearing Green Party stickers all over his bag and that was when Leo started giving me the look. I said “hi” to him one day, but Leo was no fun anymore.

And you think that ends when you leave school, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t even end after university.

I just moved, so I needed to find a job in the area. I walked into a record store yesterday—all I asked was whether or not they were hiring, so I couldn’t quite figure out what I had done to piss off Mr. past-his-prime-and-obviously-not-getting-laid. His face made me reminisce about the girl who thought she was so hip. I almost thought I saw a “we don’t hire girls” coming. Funny how getting pegged into a category makes it all the more easier to shove the judge into one. I figure he collects rare vinyl, reads art magazines and is one of those people who gives ugly people a lot of credit because they obviously must be more intelligent than good-looking people. See? It’s that easy.

I shook it off and wandered into a used bookstore. I don’t know why I am the world’s biggest attitude magnet, but I am. This time, it was Mr. oversized-sweater-(and it’s like…hot out)-past-his-prime-tortured-writer, and he clearly thought it was funny that a person who probably couldn’t read would dare apply for a job in his store. The humanity. I got tired, went home and proceeded to unpack several boxes of books.

And then there’s Ana. We had a mutual friend way back when. I used to try so hard to have camaraderie of some description with her, because of the mutual friend, but she would never have it. She was a journalism student and she and my friend were into music that I wasn’t so big on. And she thought she was so hip. But, my friend’s love of Ana and hatred of Radiohead didn’t keep she and I from becoming what I suppose people call Best Friends. And then she left town and I haven’t spoken to her in several years. I don’t fully understand why, I just assume that we were probably just filling a niche at the time, a niche that went away for one or both of us. Now, though, I feel like the niche needs filling again. Minus Ana. Minus snobbery and superiority complexes wrought from identity crises.

The problem is, like I said before, I’m a magnet for attitude. I don’t suppose it’s so much to ask that I meet a single person who doesn’t warp into conflict mode the moment I speak to them; who I can cause mischief with and drink bottles of wine with in the park late at night when I can’t sleep; who I can be both stupid and serious with; who understands what I’m saying without explanation; who can read my looks; who shares my taste in things and knows that that matters. It pains me to admit it, but it’s getting kind of lonely over here.