Friday, March 1, 2013

YOU'RE Out Of Order

When was the last time you saw a stranger on the train who wore something that you thought was nowhere close to stylish or just completely ridiculous? 

Do you think this way often, as shittily as I do? Maybe we're just jerks, but I've been trying to tune down my judgmental thoughts recently because I realized that I had been handing out free [and often incorrect] snap judgments like an underpaid member of a nightclub's street team dishes out poorly designed flyers. 

Have you spent time in Allston? I know, it's packs of Hipster college kids are sometimes unnerving, but I try to look past them to a place where I spent a large part of my 20's and remember that when I hung out at places like The Draft and Model, I was just trying to fit in, too. I noticed lately that I've been judging so many of these kids for doing the same things, and acting in the same ways that I once did.

After ditching the plugs and lip ring that I thought would tarnish grown-up Alicia's face value, I think I did okay, but I miss them.

Then I start to think about how many of my friends still have them. 
AND ARE HEAPS MORE SUCCESSFUL THAN MANY WELL DRESSED OLDER PEOPLE.

The girls that wear crazy, floral print leggings with holes in them that give a sneak peak of lovely young skin that you adore hating? I spent a long while finding reasons to dislike their awesomely stylish outfits. I realized that I've only been jealous of them. I know plenty of fun and talented adults in my social circles that make me totally envious of their progressive and creative fashion sense. Have you met my fucking friend Capricia??

I know incredible Research Scientists who proudly display their tattooed sleeves, and an  amazingly accomplished Designer/Engineer who wears the tightest shorts you've ever seen, AARON PANONE.

My Boyfriend is at the desk next to me right now, on the horn with WBUR and discussing creating a promotional film for them. And the tee shirt he wore yesterday had the word, "things!" written on it with permanent marker.

My point is that you can never judge a book by it's cover. As a sick kid, you'd think I'd try a little harder not to lose sense of that. People have treated me differently for a long time based on how I look. I'm small. Have you any idea the number of strangers that have actually walked up to me and offered up criticism and open speculation about my weight? I'd tell them to piss off.

Now I just have to remember to say that to myself when I start to judge others.

Because without Steve's fancy-pants cameras,

 this is what I have to work with.

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