My brother says it best when he comments that him and I love doing hoodrat stuff. Now, ten years ago this statement would be completely accurate. Unfortunately for my parents, both their children went through rather lengthy stages of participating in sometimes questionable behavior. Looking back I think fondly of those days filled with semi-shady intentions. They were days...heck, they were years that revolved around binge drinking, loitering, and wasting endless time. Mostly they were days that, in my mind, held no consequences because I was an immature little twit who decided to put off adulthood as long as possible. Lucky for me, I'm able to reminisce about these times because I eventually grew out of them. It's like one day I turned 31 and realized, "Holy crap! I've got a whole lot of nothing going on! I might be a loser...huh." That friends is the rather vague, PG rated, after school special inspired version of how I traded in my misguided, masochistic self for the semi adult minded individual I've become.
However, just because a person has decided to alter their undesirable behavior does not mean they don't continue to desire some aspects of it. While I would rather set fire to my entire wardrobe than ever give in to the urge to drink alcohol again, I still find myself missing my old self. I mourn the passing of that individual who didn't constantly care about what was necessarily right or wrong. Even today I'm one of those people who holds the opinion that things aren't always black and white. There is a large chunk of life that is often grey and sometimes it's so much easier living there.
So, on the day I took the above blog pictures I had myself a hoodrat day. No people, I didn't break down and slug two Mickey's forties on a park bench...again. Instead, I chose the much less destructive, but equally unmotivated activity of loitering. Yes loitering, the last shred of my shady past that neither my brother, nor myself, has been able to shake. What can I say other than, we just love wasting time in public places. In addition to this, I often find myself drawn to the most rundown places. People are always giving me hell for hanging out in unsavory surroundings. I'll admit to the fact that if there's a White Castle restaurant in the neighborhood, if there's a bullet proof glass booth housing a gas station attendant, or if there's a raving lunatic pacing the lobby of the downtown public library I will not be far away. Awe...thinking about these things now makes me a little misty for my old neighborhood in Minneapolis. Okay, I'm over that. Anyway, you get the picture. There's a very strange part of this mid-thirties, white, Midwestern woman drawn to life in the ghetto. Hey, Elvis was interested in it too.
Analyzing all of this now, I think the reason I like hanging out in these type of neighborhoods is that many people there seem to be partaking in hoodrat behavior. However as an outsider just passing through I'm only exposed to the PG rated simplification of this world, (and as we all know from my earlier paragraph, I like this kiddie version). In this rendition of my town's crappy neighborhoods, no one is unemployed, high on drugs, or suffering. Instead everyone is just partaking in the juvenile activity of wasting time...on their porches...on a work day. Of course, in my admittedly naive mind, these people are choosing to do this and are always happy.
In conclusion, my 36 year old version of hoodrat behavior includes cruising around the cruddy part of town for hours in my patchwork skirt, listening to old tunes by Pantera on the radio, only to finally stop at the public library to read, "I Am Pilgrim," among a bunch of other people wasting endless hours of time on a work day.
Shirt: Mossimo Supply Co.
Skirt: Vintage https://www.etsy.com/shop/VintageAmericano
Boots: Thrifted (Tony Lama)
Necklace: Dead Things https://www.facebook.com/objetsdelamort
Ring: Purchased at a craft fair.