Hipsters

According to some people, I've been living under a rock because I didn't know what a hipster was before Monday.  Well, I haven't been living under a rock, but I've been in grad school for the past two years, which is close.  Monday, I was awakened to the large social dialogue surrounding hipsters.  On the surface, hipsters are young people in their late teens and 20s who dress in retro style and hang out on the indie music scene.  But it's not as simple as that.  See, hipsters don't readily identify themselves as such, which creates a problem with determining who they are.  Apparently, it's an insult to call someone a hipster ... but if you're called a hipster and deny it, you're even more suspected of being one.  I think.

From everything I've read, they're a counter-culture without a cause, and most people are annoyed by them.  They don't really annoy me; I'd never even heard of them until three days ago.

But now that I know who they are, I think I know one personally.  I think my sister is one.  She wears Chucks, vintage t-shirts, and loves indie bands.  I think we have a winner.  I think I'll give her the ultimate test and ask her if she's a hipster.  If she deny's it, it's the ultimate confirmation; if she looks at me like I'm crazy and asks what the heck I'm talking about, there's still hope.

Seriously, though, I don't really understand why there's so much conversation about hipsters.  Let them dress how they want and listen to the music they like.  My sister's cool, and even if she is a hipster, why should I care?  We love to put people in categorical boxes in this country.  That makes for one boring existence.  You can't sum a person's loves, likes, dislikes, or existence up with a category.  Give it a rest!