It begins on a mile long stretch of road. A road that I bus often, and walk even more often. A stretch that symbolizes a friendship, or three because it's the path I take to escape from my cramped dorm room, to enter into a cozy apartment filled with amazing friends. It's funny, it seems that it's only on this piece of road that I walk and feel like a hipster.
I roll up my jeans, pop in my headphones and walk with a swagger that catches the beat of my music and the force of my ideas. I like listen to really obscure instrumental music with more soul in a fiddle than the Harlem Renaissance and more passion in the voice than Obama's speeches.
Today, I listened to The Drought by a band called Horse Feathers. This is pretty much my favorite song, and even though it's slow, it makes me feel so alive and energetic.
As I walked, I took snapshots of the street and pictures of my reflection in glass doors. I kept thinking, man, I hope I look as cool as I walk, half singing the tunes and sminling at the trees and the sun.
But then I realize how selfish these thoughts are.
It doesnt matter how cool I look, struttin' down the road. What matters is how cool I look, in the hard situations. When my faith is being tested and I'm so afraid of doing God's will. So, I'm grateful that I can have this realization now, looking back on that walk, and, all of the walks I've had, because they really could've been worse: instead of just not having arms, I could not know God and have to spend my life chasing after the things that make me seem hipster cool while losing sight of the perpetual joy I have in God, the joy that, when all of the indie angst wears away, still shines brighter than the sun...
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