How to Make People Think You Are a Hipster.

Here's the thing. I am not a hipster. I secretly wish I was, and I totally emulate hipster fashion cues like a pro, but I am super mainstream and 100% okay with it. I do, however, like to think that I have figured out how to make people think I am the most bohemian hipster princess on the planet. It takes a certain amount of skill, this fooling the great wide world into thinking I'm cooler than I actually am, and now my secrets are yours. Enjoy.

1) Wear a lot of plaid. This is, I believe, the cardinal rule of being a hipster. Plaid is appropriate for all seasons, so don't shy away from that flannel goodness in the summer. Just wear high-waisted jorts and sandals.

2) Shop at Thrift Town, or whatever thrift store is nearest you. Even if you buy a party tank and a cat sweatshirt, saying "I got this at Thrift ____" will make your Hipstar-meter skyrocket.

3) Drink coffee that you didn't get at Starbucks, preferably with soy milk. It's even cooler to have a favorite coffee shop or two that you frequent to the point you learn the names of the baristas.

4) Scarves and headbands. The number one hipster fashion accessory. Can be worn in six trillion different ways. Classy hipsters might choose to wear a scarf as a turban, hippie hipsters will always rock the super-seventies across-the-forehead headband. You know which one I am.

5) If you have a Pinterest, re-pin everything your hipster friends post. Everyone else who follows you will think you are so creative and cutting edge for finding that DIY vintage mason jar craft.

6) If your mother gives you an old sweatshirt, wear it with skinny jeans and call it a one-of-a-kind vintage piece.

7) Be bold. Fact: No one has to know you are not really a devil-may-care hipster rockstar. Pick something funky you like, and rock it like the hip, happenin' cat you are. You will be surprised at 1) how many compliments you get and 2) how hip you feel.

8) Have just enough singer/songwriter music on your iPod to make people think that's all you listen to. What they don't know is that you also have A*Teens, High School Musical, and the Brian Setzer Orchestra on there.

9) Mix and match. Get CRAZY. If it's too much, someone will tell you. Until they do, see just how out of the box you can go. It's kinda fun.

10) Don't talk about how much you love hipsters. 

The Big If.

The only things in life that are guaranteed are death and taxes.

And marriage.  If you have grown up (as I have) in a Christian home in the Bible Belt with happily married parents, it is just assumed that, at some point, you will tie the knot with a sexy, Jesus-lovin' sweetie. Obviously not everyone grows up looking forward to marriage, but I know I'm speaking for a pretty big group of people, here. I mean, HELLO, do you keep up with people's Pinterest boards these days? Fourteen-year-olds have wedding boards and some of my best friends are posting helpful hints for marriage. My single friends. We all talk about "when we get married" and "when we have kids". Why?

I was always a firm believer in Prince Charming and happily ever after. Seriously, ask anyone who's had a legitimate conversation with me in the last ten years. It's true. But I realized recently that my entire future was centered on an event that might never take place. I was subconsciously putting everything on hold, waiting for a man to be the leader. Normal, yes? But not realistic. There has never been any promise made to me ever, biblically or personally, that said CONGRATS, GIRL, YOU'RE GETTIN' HITCHED. Nope. Not a thing. And taking a second to think about that is equal parts exhilarating and awful.

Of course I want adorable little babies and maybe a cat and definitely a plaid-wearin' hubs who digs me big time. Of course it is literally terrifying to think about watching friend after friend get married (it's already started, let me tell you) and feeling a little (lot) bit alone.

However.

I love feeling like I am strong enough to succeed alone. I'm about this budding independence that says "It's adventure time, sister. Go do stuff." It's cool to think about every option, and not feel limited by waiting for  somebody. There is no need to. I'm not a lonely half wandering aimlessly until I find my missing piece. Nope. If he ever comes along, that will be the coolest. I will be majorly amped about it. But I'm not assuming.

So I quit saying "when". Maybe you've heard me catch myself and rephrase. Because I'm trying this new thing where I don't limit God to what I think the plan should be. I'm shooting for "if". "If I have kids", "if I get married." It's scarier that way, but it's also kind of empowering. Now the future is wide open for any kind of adventure. I know what I'm hoping for, but there is also assurance that whatever happens will be perfectly within the design of Someone far wiser that I.

Groovy.

"He's not a piece of meat, Olivia."

I saw that stripper movie. You know, the one with every attractive male actor under the age of fifty? It's okay, you can judge me because I judged me a little bit too. But the trailer was just too much to pass up. To be honest, I was expecting to see a movie about Channing Tatum's abs. I figured it would be about as quality as "Rock of Ages" and "Burlesque" combined (it's already slotted to appear on Broadway, which is maybe the most ridiculous thing I've heard since Beyonce named her baby a color). It was not. Turns out it was the kind of movie that makes you face a gruesome slice of real life and think on it. So here's what I'm thinking.

People in general are incredibly good at distorting that which was once awesome. I would be cliche and say, Bible in hand, "The youth of today are corrupted and slutty and should be punished." But let's be real, 1) it's not just the youth and 2) it's not just today. I am pretty certain this distortion of awesomeness has been going on since, oh, practically the beginning of time. Since the moment A and E chomped on that apple/orange/cumquat/whatever.

As I sat through two hours of Matthew/Matt/Alex/Channing/etc. shaking dat thang, all I could think about (besides the general awkwardness of a giant rear up in my face) was how we have taken the awesome thing that is, well, ourselves, and distorted our mindset to the point that it is totally acceptable to use each other for nothing but erotic entertainment. Girls do it to dudes, Boys do it to ladies. All day, err'day people use each other. Not cool. Super not cool when I remember that we were all created for a specific purpose, which is to bring glory to God. How exactly is a night out with the girls to watch some guy take his pants of glorifying to anybody? It's so not. It broke my heart to see a nineteen-year-old kid (even though he's not really nineteen because Alex Pettyfer's IMDB profile says he's 21) fall for the lie that a life worth living is a life full of fun, while at the same time totally lacking in worth. And when C. Tatum (as magical Michael) cried in his truck.

Let it be said that this is not a religious rampage against the strip club industry. Not even. This is one girl's observation of a sad fact: that people are okay with treating each other like toys, because they, we, have forgotten who we are and what we were created to be. We have been crafted in the image of the Creator, y'all. We are worth more, way more, than we give each other credit for.

C.S. Lewis wrote, "There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations-- these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit-- immortal horrors or everlasting splendors... Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses." (The Weight of Glory)

So for heaven's sake, be good to each other.



PS: Ten points to Gryffindor if anyone (like my roommate) understood the obscure "She's the Man" reference in the title.

Why I have a degree in theatre.

If you have participated in the performing arts, you have probably experienced the gigantic sigh of relief, exhaustion and nostalgia that is the Monday after closing. Even when I thought I would be relieved to see a show go on Sunday night (or I can't wait to get "We welcome you to Munchkinland, tralalalalalalalala" OUT OF MY HEAD), by Monday afternoon I miss it.

For the last two weeks, I have had the immeasurable pleasure of putting up a show with a bunch of elementary, high school and college students. I say pleasure because, despite wanting to strangle sundry little necks when the children would not be silent backstage (and 13-hour work days), there was enough laughter, joy, and good work that made the frustration worth it.  The worst part about this job is that I fell in love with it, and in five weeks it will be over for real.

I love that about theatre. Three weeks ago, I knew I would be working with three college friends at a local youth theatre for the summer. It was just a job. Today, I have fifty-trillion new best friends that I will genuinely miss come August. Theatre people (the good ones, at least) are just that way. They can be insta-friends because they get each other. If you're those people, you know what I'm saying. The theatre world is special that way, isn't it? It is never just a job. Creating art together forges a bond that makes you miss the rest of the company the Monday after closing. It makes each show special.

That's why I have a theatre degree. Because I want my work hours to be put towards making something beautiful with other slightly strange, loud, goofy people that will (just maybe) change the world.

My dad, who is a star.

One of my favorite things to do whenever I am home for a few days is to have a friend or two over for dinner with my family. Usually, my sister will invite her boyfriend, my brother his girlfriend, and my mom will call her sister, the neighbor, and whomever else might possibly want to join. This means that, within about an hour, my family has created a 12-person impromptu dinner party that usually includes dancing around the kitchen to the inspiring sounds of cha-cha music. It is moments like this that I am so thankful for the stellar individuals that are my parents. As a pair, they have created a family and household that is always ready to welcome, play and share life with friends.

As those who has participated in Wilson Family Dinners will know, Papa Wilson likes to begin or end all meals with a question he puts to the whole table to answer. Sometimes the questions have a theme, like on holidays or other special occasions. I have been told that some people, fully aware that a question will be coming, prepare in advance so as to give a praise-worthy answer.

Today has been dubbed by Hallmark as the day to celebrate fathers. So, since I'm not sitting around the Sunday lunch table with the fam talking about our high-lows or favorite childhood memory, here is a tribute to the guy who cha-chas around the kitchen like a pro. Love ya, Dad. :)

A Father's Day Haiku:


Bad eyes and acne,
Love for Bing, fear of the phone.
Things I got from you.

Chicken nuggets.

Those that know me well had to have known I would not be able to get very far into this blogging experience without talking about my favorite thing. Which is adorable babies. And by babies I definitely mean anyone under the age of 7, though I have learned to not call them babies to their face because they get incredibly offended (most of them are older siblings to actual infants).  Children are the coolest. They are so easily delighted, so quick to befriend anyone they meet, and so expressive.

This last week I spent four hours a day hanging out with (and wrangling and shushing) 50 little nuggets between the ages of 4 and 7 at a local theatre camp. Let's be real, there is nothing more entertaining than a five-year-old with a flair for the performing arts. For example:

• I handed a little camper her script, told her what it was, and she immediately informed me (in a business-like tone): "But I can't read."  

• Throughout the week, the staff followed the always dramatic and at times contradicting love story of Angel Face and her Romeo. Sometimes she loved him, sometimes she literally ran away, but those two stuck together like glue for most of the week. It was hysterical, precious, and a solid reminder that some things, like fickle hearts and relationship drama, never change.

• There was a redhead who showed up as Rogue (complete with gloves) for super hero day.

• When asked to show the staff special talents (ie: cartwheels, splits, spins), one kid came to the center of the room and struck a pose. That was it. "I look good," he said. "That's my special skill."

• One of the youngest campers was the Pre-K version of Sutton Foster and my sister combined. Or, the cutest child ever. I never had a clue what she was saying, but it was okay because she was just that adorable.

• I caught one little girl who was away from the rest of her group, playing in the curtains backstage and poking her head out to look at the audience. I swiftly walked over and asked her to find her team, but she very calmly said "No, no. I'm standing by for my next scene." What. A. Star.

True to form, I teared up a little during the last song as I stood backstage and watched everyone take a bow. A week of exhaustion, minor frustration and total insanity seemed absolutely worth it when my favorite little campers ran over to hug goodbye. I can only hope I am able to find jobs working with kids for the rest of my life. Sure they're a mess, but they are precious little reminders to busy adults that it's okay to be amazed. It's okay to not know the answer. And, maybe most importantly, it's okay to believe wholeheartedly in the impossible.

#YOLO

Today as we were leaving the gym, my friend Alison said "You find a lot of reasons not to do things." (This was in response to me wanting to put the moves on a cute boy at the gym, then finding every reason imaginable not to do so, number one being no one looks cute when they don't ACTUALLY know how to use the gym equipment).  But as I'm sitting here whacking myself across the head for not at least saying "hi", I realize she's right.

I've learned how to say "yes" to a lot of things in the last 21.75ish years. For example, I no longer have a problem with cheeseburgers. And I will join your game of water volleyball if you ask, even though you totally don't want me on your team because I am a terrible water volleyball player. However, there is a very long list of things that I will talk myself out of until I'm blue in the face (like the high dive at the pool) and, 95.7% of the time, I regret not doing them.

As Drake so astutely put it, "You only live once, that's the motto, YOLO." Dude has got a point. We are given a very limited amount of time on this planet to get stuff done. As I get older and time starts to fly faster I am struck with a strong desire to LIVE, in all capital letters. More and more, when I let an opportunity pass me by, I regret it. Sometimes it's little, like Cute Gym Boy. But sometimes it's big, like ignoring the homeless person walking past me even though my heart is screaming to do something. And it all boils down to the same thing: fear. I'm afraid of what will happen if I take that risk, and that fear becomes crippling.

But then there is this little gem: Jesus has called his followers (das me, yo) to live as he did. And he did not let a single moment pass him by. His entire life was lived with the greatest intention and focus. He saw opportunities in every moment and he took them every time (I mean, he coulda left Zaccheus up in the tree, am I right?). In the book of Acts, there is story after story about men and women who modeled Christ and YOLO'd the heck outta their lives (did I just make YOLO a verb? I apologize). "If we only live once and so does everyone else," they probably said, "we better get as many of them on Team JC as possible. Let's do this thang, y'all." What. A. Risk. Yet that is exactly the kind of no-fear, balls-to-the-walls approach that makes life so exhilarating! Right?!

If I could, I would be fearless. I guess the next best thing is to be courageous, and take risks even though it's sometimes terrifying. Big stuff, little stuff, silly stuff, serious stuff, ALL THE STUFF. Whether it's jumping into Frog Fountain at midnight or boldly sharing my faith or saying "Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy...", now is the time for action.

I'm going to carpe the hell out of this diem, and all the ones to follow. Join me?