My brother called me a hippie... and I did some thinking

I love/research/advocate/discuss/daydream about compost and composting.

I'd like to grow tea. Soon.

I read that you can keep lemon trees indoors. Wouldn't that be nice?

I own a poncho.

For the better part of last semester, I slept in a hammock.

Currently, I sleep on the floor.

I'm okay with sleeping on the floor.

I don't want an iPhone.

I don't want a new phone.

I don't really want MY phone - I'd gladly sell/rent it out.

My hair is long.

Free Tibet.

I have a shirt with Buddha on it.

I have a shirt with Shiva dancing on it.

When we were in Mexico, I split a grilled fish at the beach with my friend Oziel. We ate with our hands and washed the smell off by squeezing a lime.

I've been trying to think of an art project in which to use a shit ton of styrofoam cups... and then, we'll replace everybody's styrofoam cup stash with... ... oh crap, what do we do then?

I make paper.

Iron & Wine frequents my cd player. (So does the Polyphonic Spree and Tom Waits.)

I own part of a hookah.

I have a journal and its pages are made from tree bark (it was a gift).

Call it Burma, not Myanmar.

I don't freak out if there is no meat in a meal.

Wanna go on a road trip?

If there were an engineering course on designing a roof-top garden, I would take it.

Once, in the Commons, I went apeshit because there were fava beans in the soup. I love fava beans.

I've made my peace with being poor in life.

And hummus.

I think and plan for the commune.

Don't throw those coffee grounds away!


... ... ...


I have a journal with a spine that, apparently, is made from elephant hide. (It was also a gift, but still...)

I eat McDonald's.

I buy things from Wal Mart.

I work at a factory.

I use plastic grocery sacks. Damn.

When we were in Mexico, I ate at Pizza Hut.

...and McDonald's.

...Twice.

And I got my laundry done by washing machines.

I bought two Kanye West albums. (Would someone like to buy Graduation? I really don't like it.)

I drive.

Oh, and my phone is a razr. Wanna rent it now?




To be honest, it only bothered me that, within a few minutes, my brother felt like he understood who I was as a person... and that it could be summed up in one word... and for reasons that aren't necessarily "hippie" as much as "aware human being."
Also, he said the word "hippie" like he would say the word... ... um, "fag" or "poser." I don't think it would be unlikely that when he called me a "hippie" he really meant "poser."
Well, I think we've made quite a breakthrough tonight...
And that's fine, I guess. We are totally different people, my brother and I. And I'd be lying if I said that I don't judge his lifestyle... so, we're even. And it's probably good that we live four states apart. His friends are like him and mine are a bit like me.

note: I know not all of the things from the first list are necessarily associated with being a hippie but they are some of the things that my brother might point out.