Portrait of a Hipster

I’m beginning to get a little frustrated with my autobiography class.
Usually it’s around 5 or 6 students which is a small enough class already but yesterday I showed up and it was just me and the Scottish guy who dated his cousin. And the teacher. I wouldn’t mind so much but since they’re both older and have lived in England for a long time, they’ll talk about British serial killers or politicians or toys they had when they were younger and I’ll be like ‘Er…mind explaining?” The scene was basically them cracking up and me being like 'I'm American.'

Our assignment yesterday was all about The Soundtracks Of Our Lives. We wrote about our first concert, the first CD we bought (or record if you are them) and had to play it for the class. This is how I got to introduce them to All American Rejects (the first concert I went to, in which my best friends ditched me and I spent the whole night crying in the back) an N*SYNC’s album No Strings Attached. Those might not be the best bands in the world to make others listen to but it’s better than the Dr. Who theme song of 1975 that Scottish boy played like 5 times.

London Met University is the most confusing and frustrating building in the universe. Instead of the efficient system of handing in your essays, like mine that was due yesterday, you have to throw it a big red bin in the undergraduate office and they sort it out after. I guess that’s easier than giving it to your teacher…? But to GET to the undergraduate office, first you have to know what zone your in. Each zone is a different color and they are dispersed throughout the bridge-connected buildings. Zone red might have stairs that lead to the 5th floor and zone blue might have stairs that lead to the 2nd floor and zone green has stairs that lead to the middle of fucking nowhere and when you turn around, they’re gone. No one can help you and God save you if you need to print anything. I will never complain about Maryland again.

Last night was my roommate’s birthday. The girls next door threw her a “Highschool Stereotype” party where everyone had to dress up as a nerd, jock, prepster etc. I was decked out in my hipster attire: ripped tights, boots, jean shorts, scarf, raybans etc. It was fun taking my fancy camera and stalking people all night with my “artsy photographs.” People were dressed up, one of the girls who lives there painted her face black as she was a “baller”. I’m pretty sure that’s a hate crime in America…..

Anyways, finally time for Shabbat. Have a good one my loves!