"No one has ever seen my moves."

(Title from the movie Safety Not Guaranteed)

Hipster.

What's the first thing that pops into a mind when this word is read?

Pathetic is what usually pops into mine.

I've always thought about bad connotations in correlation to this word.

Funky dress, weird hair, can't like anything that anyone else likes, moody temperament, et cetera.

But here's the thing, I'm a hipster.

Funky dress = I decided about a year ago that I was going to stop dressing how everyone expected me to dress. I wasn't going to change my whole closet every time a new trend showed up at Forever 21. I was going to dress in a way that made me feel confident. I've always had issues with self confidence and insecurity; why fuel that fire with dressing in a way where I wasn't comfortable? The other day, I really wanted to wear this one shirt, and I wanted to feel pretty so I wore a skirt and my favourite brown wedges. When I came out of my room to go to work, my roommate saw me and smiled. "That outfit would straight up look ridiculous on anyone but you," she said. And I felt awesome the entire day. I may not always match the way society says I should match or wear the "latest" fashion, but I wear clothes that I want to wear because I want to wear them.

Weird hair = I've always wanted to be that girl with the long, wavy brown hair that can just be thrown up in a messy bun or intricate braid. I tried to be that girl for awhile. And I hated it. I always felt like my hair was gross and weird and I just hated it. I would cut it and hate it so grow it out only to hate it more. Then one day about two years ago, I went to a hair dresser on a whim and said cut it all off. I've had short hair ever since. I know it's counter-culture of the "pretty girl" to have short hair; most girls who are beautiful today have long, curly hair, or at least a cute shoulder length cut. I have hair that my hairdresser here affectionately tells me I need to put product in to make it feminine or it will be a man's hair cut. But I'm okay with this. Because short hair gives me confidence. I may look odd with it sometimes, but I know there are days where I rock it. And I'm okay with that now. I don't need to have a "pretty girl" haircut to feel pretty.

Can't like anything that anyone else likes = this is where I really get hipster. I genuinely do like a lot of things no one else likes. When I watch a movie, I always pick the nerdy, lonely, pathetic guy to call dibs on. Ask my friend and they will vouch for me on this. One of my best friends told me I had to see Pitch Perfect, and that she knew exactly which guy I'd like the best, but she wasn't going to tell me until after I saw it. I called her after I did and the first thing she asked was which guy I liked. I told her the lonely magician who no one really likes but turns out to be cool in the end and she screamed I KNEW IT into the phone. I eat oatmeal as a snack when I get home from work. I would rather have apple juice than beer. I cry at those sappy Kay jewelry commercials, every freaking time. I sleep with my teddy bear Rosecheeks and a stuffed version of Little Foot every night because I have to cling to something as I fall asleep and they keep me sane when the lights go out. I watch random and obscure British movies because that's how my parents raised me, not because I want to be cool. And yes, I liked Regina Spektor before a lot of people and don't listen to her anymore but that's because I always move on and get obsessed with new things. Just ask my family. I don't do these kinds of things to be cute or get attention like some girls I went to college with. I do them because that's who I am and I never knew it was dorky.

Moody temperament = this is something I've struggled with ever since high school. I jokingly like to tell myself it's just because I read too much Sherlock Holmes and try to copy him. But it's true. Some days I am probably the most annoyingly cheerful person you will ever meet (I'm channeling my inner Arthur from Cabin Pressure on these days). Some days I am dark and write stories with serial killers and twisted humour where a man keeps failing at suicide which makes him more depressed which makes him want to kill himself even more. Some days I am a complete and total hopeless romantic (this is where the crying at Kay commercials kicks in). Some days I tell myself I never ever ever want to be in another relationship ever (this is normally when I've thought about exes too much or just realize that no man will ever compare to Rory Williams from Doctor Who). Some days I need to be around people in order to breathe. Some days don't come near me or I will run away from you because I can't be near people because they suck. I try harder than most people realize to be consistent in my daily life and not change how I act from one day to another. The same best friend I mentioned earlier who told me to see Pitch Perfect had a rule when I was in college that I had to call her when I would catch myself just literally staring at my white wall for hours at a time, and the reason I would stare at the wall like this is because I was angry at myself, trying to figure out why I am the way I am. I'm not writing any of this to sound pathetic, believe me. It's all 100 % percent honest and it's taken me the entire time I've had a blog to be honest like this (which is saying a lot seeing as I have four whole followers [yes that is me being sarcastic] [yes that was a parenthesis in a parenthesis]).

What am I getting at with all this jibber jabber?

I'm not really sure to be honest.

Maybe I do.

Maybe I'm just trying to get my feelings worked out in my head and the best way I know how to do that is to write them down. Maybe I'm trying to say that I am a hipster and whatever, that doesn't make me pathetic because I'm only pathetic when I let that word become who I am.

You know that saying sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me, and everyone always tells you it's wrong because words can hurt? Words can hurt. I know that I know that I know that words are the most powerful thing in the world. But words don't have to control us. A single word can never define a human being. Ever. I don't care if you're white or black or gay or straight or single or taken or a murderer, none of those one words defines who you are. Even someone as messed up as Hitler doesn't deserve to be completely summed up with the word Holocaust. He was complex. He was messed up and horrendous, yes, but he was other things too.

Okay.

I realize it sounds like I just compared myself to Hitler. It's late is the only excuse I can come up for that one.

I've probably just taken being called a hipster the other day and turned it into the most dramatic thing ever, but, well, that's the hipster in me coming out.

The point I am trying (or failing) to make is that yeah. I fall into the hipster category. But does that make me pathetic?

Freaking no.

It's just one part of what makes me me.

And on my good days, I'm pretty confident in me.

Which is kind of awesome.

Not talking and doors shut are great, let's keep it up.

When you don't say a word when you come home, I don't know what that means. I suspect it means either I've done something to piss you off, or work has you irritated.

When I say hello and you mumble a hey before going into your room and shutting the door, I don't know what that means. It begins to confirm my suspicions that you are pissed at me for some reason.

When you think I'm on the couch but hear me in the kitchen so you deliberately turn around and don't walk into the kitchen like I know you were about to just do and walk back into your room, I don't know what that means. My suspicions that you are angry at me are building.

When I take the food I've cooked for tomorrow out of the oven and leave it sitting on the oven to cool, then come back into the living room, so you run out of your room and into the kitchen and then loudly say, "Seriously? Wow," before grabbing a beer and running back into your room and slamming the door behind you, I do in fact know what this means. It means I have pissed you off. Seeing as I have not seen you all day and I have cleaned the kitchen, loaded and unloaded the dishwasher, taken the trash and the recycling and taken all of my clutter from the living room into my room because I know it annoys you when I leave it in the living room, I am racking my brain to think of what I have done to piss you off so horribly.

The only conclusion I can come to is that my food cooling before I stick it in the fridge for tomorrow has pissed you off. I know what you're thinking; how could that have pissed you off?

Well, I'm back to where I started. I don't know.

I suppose I have a hard time reading your mind. Please forgive me for that, I'll try to do better.