My Alter Ego

Remember that sweatshirt I bought on impulse?  Well the buying process was so short, I never actually checked the size or tried it on.  Turns out it's two sizes too big.  Don't get me wrong, I still LOVE it, but I do endure a fair amount of gentle(ish) teasing from my friends about how the 90s wants the sweatshirt back.

Keep that in mind as I explain my latest dumb purchase. I passed a stand of glasses and sunglasses and tried on a pair of big fake glasses (as a joke, of course) and fell in love. Again, I HAD to have them. They were 20 NIS ($5).  As a penny pincher, that seemed high and probably negotiable.

I girded my loins, reviewed my bartering experiences, went in to talk to the shopkeeper... and promptly forgot everything.  I'm sure I looked like a goldfish and sounded like a dumb American.

How many hipsters does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
You wouldn't know, it's kind of an obscure number.

Me: "How much for these?"
Shopkeeper: "20 shekels."
Me: "Uhh... well... mmm..."
Shopkeeper: "You want a discount?"
Me: "Yes."
Shopkeeper: "15 skekels."
Me: "Sold!"

This story doesn't end there.  I was wearing The Sweatshirt over my regular shirt that afternoon.  Paired with the glasses, I morphed into a hipster, just shy of an androgynous haircut and Instragram account.

We decided my new hipster identity is deserving of a hipster name.  Something old fashioned, classic, and rare.  Thus, Hipster Katherine was born.  She appreciates the underground music scene (a lot of really deep and thought provoking artists that you probably haven't heard of), shops at Anthropologie and Salvation Army, is cultured by French new wave cinema, and rides a fixed-brake bike to conserve energy and save the environment.

Ironic sweatshirt + hipster glasses + collared shirt = Hipster Katherine

"Mormons, oh my heck!"

We have finally been released from the JC.  Yesterday we went to the Garden Tomb, one of the proposed locations of the Savior's burial.  Today I got a chance to wander through the markets in the Old City.  It was the funniest experience... never have I been so glad to be a Mormon!

The Mormon kids are well liked and well known.  We are consistently polite, friendly, honest, and most importantly- spendy.  Plus there's a new group of us every four months to buy the same chintzy crap as the last group.  The shopkeepers know all this, and love us for it.

Walking through the markets in the Old City was amazing, because at every shop we were recognized as Mormon and treated very well.  Everyone wanted us to have their business card, everyone wanted us to shop at their stand, and everyone was willing to offer us a special deal.  Us, their dear Mormon friends.

I don't think anyone actually knows what Mormons are or what the term means, but they know it's an identifier.  As we walked by one stand the owner looked at us and asked "Chinese?"  We laughed and kept walking.

"No, seriously."  (Insert a contemplative pause) "Mormon?"  I turned around and nodded my head at him, and he just smiled and said "Ahh, Mormon!"

I've never had so much fun shopping.  We walked approximately seven miles today (thanks to my roommate who would rather map our path than study), shared approximately three sketchy pastries, and visited approximately two thousand shops.  I came home and about collapsed.  I will definitely come home a leaner, meaner, well cultured machine(r) in four months time.  Provo, look out.

Something's Not Right Here

We live in mini apartments here at the center.  Mine is the last one at the end of a very long corridor.  Each apartment is identical from the outside, and I have found myself stopping at the wrong apartment a few times already.

Tonight, I was coming back from the gym and absentmindedly winding my headphones up when I got to my apartment.  I was surprised to find the door unlocked and even more surprised to find someone in my bed.  I turned around to see if my roommates were playing a joke on me and saw a stranger at the table.

That was when I realized I made a mistake.

I walked into someone else's apartment.  I just froze and said "this isn't my apartment," then turned and walked out the door with a hasty "welp, bye!"  What an impression.  I'm definitely off to a good start here.

Nice To Meet You, I'm Crazy

Last Friday, a friend stopped by to talk to me and my roommate.  We got to reminiscing on the good times had at the beginning of the semester and I asked him what his first memory of me was.  He mentioned our first encounter, in which I was flustered and a little more crazed than usual and said "my first impression of you was 'Wow... she's crazy."

I asked him what he thinks of me now.  He stopped to think for a moment, then confidently answered "My second impression of you was 'Wow... she's crazy."

I wish I was surprised by this, but he is not the first guy to call me crazy.  At least I'm consistent, right?