Color me indie
◊ So I was at Rasputin today in the punk/indie section, happily trawling for CDs, when I spotted the other person lurking in punk/indie. Too-small elementary school PE shirt most likely bought at a thrift store, faded jeans, one facial piercing (lip), shaggy hair. I smirked to myself. Hah! Textbook indie rocker, poor thing.
Then I glanced down at his shoes and my blood ran cold: low-top Converse All-Stars, just like mine. His were canvas and mine were vinyl, but the style and color were the same.
I froze and did a quick inventory of my own look: too-small striped kid's shirt from the Salvation Army, faded jeans, one facial piercing (eyebrow), shaggy hair.
I could be mistaken for one of them.
I looked down at the Modest Mouse CD in my hand.
Oh my god, I could be one of them.
I'm mopey enough, anyway. Just a tip for those hapless guys who haven't cottoned on to this already: girls are crazy. Crazy. A girl who insists she's not crazy is even more dangerous than a regular girl because you're less likely to see the flip-out coming.
And though I'm coming off like a voice of reason right now and generally act un-girly and like a total pig, I'm just as nuts as the rest of them. My emotions have been all over the map of late, I've been talking to myself more than usual and a few times in the past couple of weeks I've found myself sitting at the edge of the bed with fat tears rolling off my face with no idea where they came from. Not PMS or general moodiness, just typical girl insanity.
Someone take my ovaries, please.