Nabokov.

On Friday night, after failing to get a hold of anyone I know in Boston who I might like to spend an evening with, I decide to go out alone. There are two bars in Jamaica Plain- the hipster neighborhood that I've been closetly obsessed with- that I was extremely curious about. With my iPod as aural courage, I took the train down to JP and walked to the Midway Cafe, a dive bar known for its local flavor and live music. It was exactly what I wanted it to be- dark, seedy, and ale-soaked, with pistachios on the bar and Wild Turkey behind it. Having grown utterly bored and disenchanted with the polished clubs and lounges of DC, I craved someplace raw. This was it. After about an hour and a half of music and conversation with my bar stool neighbor, I hopped a cab to my next destination- The Milky Way. This venture was much more daunting than the last, as the Milky Way was Boston's prime hipster hangout. My feelings towards hipsters can be described as ambivalent at best. In a way, I can't stand them for their contradictory snobbiness - clearly upheld to disguise insecurities. Yet for some reason, I find that I'm continually drawn to them, and simultaneously intimated and awed. As I descended into the bar, they were everywhere. Shooting pool, dancing to the reggaetone band, clustered around pitchers of Pabst. As I stood in front of the stage and watched the band, I felt an unfamiliar uneasiness come over me. I've never had a problem doing things alone, whether it be studying at a coffeeshop, sightseeing, or even eating at a restaurant, which seems to be where most people draw the line. I don't particularly have anything to prove by doing so; I just never thought it to be an unusual habit. But last night, among the herd of independent hipsters, I felt self-conscious. It occurred to me that in town like Boston, where most the population was between 18 and 22, the lines between “cool”, "mysterious" and "sketchy" were thin ones. By the judgment of those around me, I probably fell into the third category. And while I find that fact to be somewhat disconcerting, I can’t help but relish it. After all, as a girl from McLean by way of Palestine, who knows if I’ll have another opportunity to play such a devious role.