I’m just not one of them. It doesn’t come naturally to me. There are those people who are always ahead of the trends (maris) and there are those people who can grab clothes off the floor and ruffle their hair and poof they are hipster/trendy/accidentally fashionably chic and then there is me.
I’m not a total doofus. It took years and years of training to pull myself out of doofus but I think I’ve definitely graduated to at least a cut above. Part of the reason i could never actually live in San Francisco is because I’m just not cool enough. For serious. It took me pretty much an entire year to feel comfortable going to the store in my sweats. And downtown? Forgetaboutit. I always felt under dressed even when I tried! I mean, i guess towards the end I did buy a giant butterfly purse (LOVE)
so I guess SF did rub off on me in a totally non STD, homeless guy kinda way. Anyways – I totally digress.
I’m not cool. Sometimes I wish i was but then I think about how much effing energy it would take and I’m relived that I can sit around and joke with my boyfriend about how this one time i farted while being on skype and claire was all “did you just fart?!” but if she would have just kept her TRAP shut then Kamel would have never known and we would have all been just FINE without that information but instead he was all “I TOTALLY HEARD THAT” and haha now it’s just a riot to bring up again. Heh. Or sit around with my room mate, claire, while we’re both on our computers and crack up over videos of animals with human voice overs. Oh the little things.
This is all a huge build up to the fact that I got a job today. Working in a bakery (fun!) as a barista/front counter lady. And I’m telling you right now it’s not that cool. It’s not a snooty emo coffee job at the independent place down the street where they play obscure tunes and look under fed and do mass amounts of amazing coffee art. My coworkers jeans and tshirts that aren’t made from organic cotten and aren’t purchased at an ironic yet not too ironic tshirt shop. They wear sneakers and gap jeans and joke about the snooty old danish ladies who demand to pay 50 cents for what is now a 2.50 danish. They use words like snooty and not bitchy. It’s a nice place to work. And I’m probably going to get about 50% less tips than I would working somewhere else but I have a feeling I’ll really enjoy the people and the customers and the smell of butter and cinnamon every single day I roll into work. And even though I’ll miss the money, I won’t miss the attitude.