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26 August 2015

apparently I might be a hipster

and I might be astonishingly fine with that.

I've been getting quite a few comments about my current interests during this summer. I knew I was going to be a bit "different" due that I had just spent a year no further than the other side of the world. I still didn't realise how much I had changed as a person {as everyone does in this age, I've been told}. The most obvious change was in my style which had taken a radical turn January. As did literally everything in my life. That girl who refused to put on anything baggy, who loved Katy Perry, who didn't really care about yellow nor anything retro woke up one morning absolutely loving oversized shirts, Taylor Swift, yellow and desperately wanting a typewriter and a vinyl player. I swear, it was a revelation.

Changing when no one even knows you at all is exceptionally easy compared to the struggle I faced once I came back. People knew the old me. Some people knew the old me dangerously well. So in reality what I faced was a tiny existential crisis. It took me until last weekend to actually define myself well enough to know what I want to do next with my little project called self-improvement. Someone dropped the label for probably the twentieth time. I denied everything, for probably the twentieth time, but the next day I really got into thinking about it for the first time.

I like my sweaters and my ankle boots. I love my typewriter and my postcard collection. I deeply love my dear MacBook and my beautiful cameras. I cannot say I "like" the popular music {except Taylor Swift, of course} and really enjoy more authentic, the less over-replayed tracks. I went totally crazy about the fairy lights about a month ago. I have a rather complicated coffee order to place. Of course these things don't define me completely, not even close. There are much deeper features that build my character. I just thought it felt nice to be placed in a group for once. Also, fitting in one group doesn't take away the possibility of fitting in dozens of other groups. Think it as a passport: the more stamps, the more interesting, but in the end someone needs to tell the stories of those trips.

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