So today my mother came home with my newest piece of art work not realizing how much she believed it was a reflection of me in a picture. It is in a simple black frame with a simple white border that’s area is probably bigger than the actual embodiment of the black and white picture. I already see the resemblance.


The picture shows almost a mistake of a click of the camera. The picture is taken sideways. It’s not the normal straight up and down picture, again seeing the resemblance of myself. Now onto the actual picture, it shows half of a girl sitting cross-legged on cobblestone bricks playing an F chord on her guitar, with a silver wring on her finger. Her face isn’t seen and her body is nearly non-existent. She wears a simple makeshift skirt made with simple fabric that covers her graceful legs. Protruding from this simple skirt is a gladiator sandal that holds her foot, which holds a small toe ring.



I woke up to this picture in my room and didn’t really understand why she had bought it. I went to my mother and said, “I don’t know it’s a little to hippy for me.” She looked at me and said, “But you are a little hippy.” Then my boyfriend chimes in and says “No she’s not, she’s a prep.” First of all love the labeling everyone around me has come accustom to using, which is probably my own doing, but as he says this I think to myself; am I a hippy? I wear pink polo shirts and expensive jeans, I live by the fashion rules of Abercrombie and Fitch’s empire; am I a hippy? I don’t believe in “going green” and world peace; am I a hippy?



I dress how I feel and I do what I want. I say what I feel and I’m emotional as most people know. I sit in the back yard and play music for hours just because I feel like I need to hear something real, whether it’s a guitar, a bird chirping, or a bit of wind slicing through my ear. Now that I think about it I resemble that girl in the picture when I do so. I’ll sit outside and pick dandelions and make them into a necklace just for the fun of it. I eat up the warmth of the sun and turn these weed’s that everyone hates into my own personal trophy. I want everyone to deal with each other, and learn that talking about people doesn’t make anyone any more or important. Fighting solves nothing, though I don’t think it will ever stop.

Wow, maybe my mother’s whole notion of me being a hippy wasn’t totally off. I dress and speak like a prep, but maybe my ideals and ideas aren’t so far off from what that picture expresses. Maybe I am just a girl who sits on a corner with a long skirt, a guitar in her hand, and a gladiator shoe with a toe ring. I’m nameless, faceless, black and white, simple, and artistic. I don’t know if my beliefs match that of a girl in a picture, and I don’t know what I am. So for now, lets just say I’m an extremely preppy hippy who bases her life off the rules Abercrombie and Fitch has set for her and the songs that the legends laid down for her as well.