Child’s been watching Regular Show. I love this trend of hipster cartoons. I would argue that it started with Spongebob, but maybe Scooby Doo is the original hipster cartoon, adjusted for period and culture.
My favorite hipster cartoon is Adventure Time. If you haven’t seen it, do. You will pee your pants.
I was in Urban Outfitters with my sisters in State College. I used to love Urban Outfitters. I still do. But I can’t afford it now. I couldn’t before, either, but I didn’t know that yet. Anyway, this gorgeous, pixie, tattooed hipster girl helped us look for the perfect mary janes in the perfect size, and she’s shooting products with an iPhone with some kind of scanning device attached. I said, “Damn hipster store.”
And my sister leaned over and stage whispered, “They don’t like to be called hipsters.”
She can say that with authority because she is a hipster.
The title to today’s post is from an episode of Regular Show in which Mordecai and Rigby get a really catchy song stuck in their heads.
But the poignancy of the quotation really struck me.
I grew up playing piano. And aside from that I had a bargain basement teacher who didn’t teach me anything about theory–and when I finally discovered on my own that there was a theoretical aspect, it was a little bit too late. I could’ve studied it and learned it, but I wanted it to be easy, internalized the way the keys still feel under my fingers. And I should’ve. But I was stubborn and charging forward with my life. I was on to the next art, drawing, and hoping to go to art school, but hoping more to get the hell out of my parents’ house and pay rent.
What was I thinking?
I’m 31 now. Officially in my 30s. But–and I’ve been talking about this with people, it seems I’m not alone–I feel like I can return to myself. Somehow, being “in my thirties” gives me permission to honor who I am. But I’ve spent greater than a decade changing my mind about myself. Trying on different jobs and hats and lifestyles, always being a creative person underneath it, and gravely desirious to make my living with creative pursuits. So now that I’m at home with April Line, artist/creative; I feel like I’m 20!
The world is my oyster. (You win if you just read that in a NY accent).
A few months ago, I tweeted one night when I couldn’t go to sleep that “Sometimes I feel like a prisoner in my own bed.”
Being a prisoner in one’s own bed is bad, but being a prisoner to one’s cultural expectations is far, far worse.
Today, I am free.