Let me just explain how my surroundings have changed in the past month.
There is currently a lively party for marriage equality called the “Until Love is Equal” movement going on underneath my apartment. I stopped by earlier and listened to a really inspirational speech by a charming geriatric ex-politician in GR. I got a free button, a sense of something good brewing and a terrible glass of PBR. It is Hipsterville, after all.
If I were in my old neighborhood, the night would have gone somewhat differently. I would be listening to the sounds of firecrackers in the street (because apparently, every day is effing Independence Day to some people) and wondering how to differentiate those noises from the distant sounds of gunshots in the black hills. I’d be listening to my neighbor’s outdated music blaring so loudly from his speakers that I’d question whether or not he was indeed hosting a swinger’s party inside my bedroom.
Thankfully, I have moved on from that neighborhood and it’s characters. No longer will I wake to the voice of the Cat Lady, expressing her lamentation at a lost “Sprinkles” on everyone’s doorstep. No longer will I duck below the windows on a Friday night when the bass thumps past my house. And finally, no longer will I google the cause of the sirens, police tape and gunshots in the neighboring bar’s parking lot. I have moved from the ghetto or “Little Mexico” to the heart of hipster/hippie-ville and I am enjoying myself.
Apart from the constant flow of people, some of which are playing instruments that make terrible sounds, and the constant fear of being judged for bringing my groceries home in plastic bags, I am settling nicely into my new home. I look forward to blogging about the crazy weirdos who frequent my basement bar and the quirks that come with living in the trendiest neighborhood in Grand Rapids. Although, if any of you readers see me with a mustache tattoo on my finger, I give you permission to slap the hipster out of me.