Two unfortunate events collided to make my experience live tweeting for the second time the worst experience ever. One, it was dull. Two, I’m scared of hippies/hipsters.

Unfortunate Event One: It was dull.

“Ohhh, expression of self-evident truths… Deep #powershift” <—- I was bored by our exploration of 3rd grade social skills and their usefulness in “networking”

A majority of the sessions I attended focused on boring topics in which their was little room for mistake. Everyone was calm, cool, and collected as they spoke (save the social justice speaker). They were passionate, and they sought to motivate an audience that didn’t need motivating. We were all their for the same reason, to save the environment.The initial speakers I encountered on Friday didn’t understand that we were all of a similar mindset, and consequently, I zoned out. Everyone was saying the same thing as the previous person. Boring.
Also, the two sessions I found interesting were not particularly tweetable. They would have been dull for the all other tweeters. I was not gonna to tweet about the strategies I was learning to make Sodexo offer healthier, more sustainable options. “Talk to the vendors directly, and don’t be defensive. #powershift” That’s some riveting live tweeting right there. I could have also tweeted about hip-hop culture’s compatibility with sustainable environmental practices, but I felt a little self-conscious. There was a lot of discussion of white patriarchy, food desserts, and the continued enslavement of African Americans. While I found it interesting – hence why I chose that session to attend – I had the sneaking suspicion that tweeting about it might be perceived as racist, or really just odd.

Unfortunate Event Two: I’m scared of hippies/hipsters.

“Convention center is packed… Also, I’m definitely a half-ass powershifter, in that I don’t have a backpack and camping gear.” <— I just wanna know where these people were camping in DC…

So many self-righteous people! Every piece of clothing was carefully picked out, every piece of hair was carefully disheveled, and every backpack was covered in “I care about *insert cause here*” buttons. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me. In fact, I have a few of those buttons, but when faced with a mass of the most intense hippies/hipsters at a conference where the entire premise is activism… I get nervous. Surely they know that at any given moment my mind is generating a large sum of bitingly sarcastic jokes to spit out in response to any serious statement they’re making. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I prefer to be casually correct (as opposed to blatantly moralistic). Also, I looked like a half-hipster in comparison, and it freaked me out to look normal. After all I go to Mary Washington, where skinny jeans mean hipster, therefore I am one.
My mind circulated between the following thoughts:
‘Shit, my footwear is not adequate’
‘Where are these people camping? This is the city.’
‘Boy or girl, or boy/girl?’
‘Can they smell the tuna on my breath. I better not tell anyone I’m a vegetarian.’
‘Everything I say must be ambiguous.’
‘Is that a penetrating stare of depth, or just a normal hipster scowl?’
AND, MOST IMPORTANTLY…
‘Is he/she reading my tweet?’