I'm at Starbucks again. I promise, I'm not addicted. I've just been working on my youth stuff for this evening. There is something about the atmosphere here that makes it easy to get things done. I'm able to focus. Plus, when I'm all finished I can people watch. This is my usual Starbucks store, and I found something out to day about 'Doris Day'. Nothing really personal, just surprising. Apparently Doris is a smoker. I don't know why I never thought about that. Not that I think about whether or not people I don't know are smokers. Its just to look at her, you'd never really expect it. How do I know? when I parked my car here, I parked next to a Hyundai, which apparently belongs to Doris. And inside was Doris, smoking away on a cigarette. just something that startled me.
I also found out the artist who sits here every Wednesday by the door has a name. Or rather, I know he has a name, just never knew what that name was, but I heard Doris say it a few minutes ago. Some how or other the name was surprising, one that I would have never guessed it to be, so in the future I believe his name shall remain, 'The artist by the door'. I spoke to him today. I'm sitting at the little table kind of caddy corner to his table by the door, and I needed to plug in my computer and the nearest available outlet is under his table. Apparently he is used to such requests, because as I was plugging the chord into my lap top out of the corner of my eye I saw he already had his hand out for the chord before I even mentioned it.
I guess that he has been here a while, as there are exactly 3 Starbucks cups of various sizes sitting on his table. Now I may like Starbucks, but 3 in one day?
Somehow I feel kind of 'hip' while working on my internship stuff at Starbucks I don't know why though. Its not like I dress hip-ish. I have exactly 1 pair of skinny jeans, everything else is boot cut. I associate skinny jeans as being a hip kind of thing to wear. as well as scarves and big sunglasses (which I own plenty of those, but am not wearing them today). And if you are a male who is dressed 'hip' then that must include a fedora. Perhaps hip isn't the correct word for a male but either way, I associate it with fedoras. A man who was sitting across from me a while ago was sporting a brown fedora, placed precariously on top of his head. He only looked hip from the neck up though. The rest of his clothes bespoke of construction, or some other sort of out-door labor job.
People are interesting. They are interesting to watch. To write about. I've always liked to write. I used to want to be a nurse, then I learned how much science went into it. I hated science. Then I wanted to be a carpenter, but I learned how much math went into it. I'm terrible at math. Then I felt called to work with teenagers. I love it. I love watching them grow. Even though this is only my first month as the intern youth director, I've enjoyed it. I like writing out my messages and creating ideas. It seems to fit me, and I feel like God has me here for a reason.
I'd love to write a book someday. I constantly have stories running through my head. I have a very vivid imagination, and I feel like if I can put my imagination into words, I could make sense of the story lines that seem to jumble through my head. Somehow I haven't felt the courage to actually put those words to paper yet. I'm not sure why. Goodness knows they keep me awake at night often enough, i should just write them down. Somehow though, I feel like I can't write until the setting is perfect. I haven't found the place yet to actually write a book.Maybe one day I'll stumble upon a little out of the way coffee shop or cafe and will know that that is where my literary efforts should begin. Or I can make my dream trip to England, Scotland and Ireland and feel inspired to begin a story then. As of now though, internship work and blog writing is the extent of my writing endeavors. But one day...
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
surroundings
Im sitting in Starbucks right now, surrounded by all sorts of people. I have seen exactly 1 phone that was not and Iphone. Many people are on their laptops, ipads, tablets, or sitting visiting with eachother. we are all so plugged in and connected. Even I have my Iphone 5 sitting next to me, and my headphones are plugged into my lap top and I have an Ingrid Michaelson station playing on Pandora (seems appropriate, being in a coffee house)
In a way, this is sort of a dream I've had, sitting in a coffee house surrounded by people I don't know, being able to write about the people I don't know, and the afore mentioned people I don't know have no idea that they are being mentioned. For instance, the older man sitting in the easy chair next to my little fire side table had been studiously reading and marking notes over some book, then had his ipad out. young Man across from me is reading a magazine, listening to something on his tablet with with his lap top bag on the floor next his feet. one elderly lady across from me is sipping her coffee and reading the news paper, and her elderly lady companion with her has been staring into the fire place for quite a while. This isn't my usual Starbucks. This is actually my first time to spend any length of time here besides waiting for my drink to be made. I've been here for a couple hours, writing up my message for my Youth group, of which I am the current director. Having been doing that for so long, and really finishing it, I decided to take a break and write a blog. Because coffee houses filled with techy people and blog writing seemed to go hand in hand with each other.
As I was saying though, this is my first time to sit and do anything at this Starbucks. My usual place is much more predictable in its surroundings. For instance, there will always be the man there in the table to the right of the doorway, every Wednesday with a portfolio of sketches and drawings laying out, and he sits there, either drawing or taking in his surroundings. There is the Barista who looks just like a young version of Doris Day, always there (though she thinks my name is Carol, which is what she writes on my cup, usually a caramel macchiato, with, of course, an extra shot of espresso) and the young man with gaged ears and too-tight pants making drinks. Its a comforting feeling sometimes, knowing things will be as usual, at least on Wednesdays at my usual Starbucks.But this being a different Starbucks, I got a different drink from my normal caramel, and decided on Vanilla latte (with, of course, that extra shot of espresso). Nothing like breaking the mold every now and then, just to shake things up. With that being said, and my latte being gone and my berry coffee cake eaten up, I will go now, out to my old little chevy, ( named Max). I never have trouble finding my car in this city. Its generally the oldest one in the parking lot (its a year 2000, but this is a very wealthy area) probably the noisiest, despite my new alternator and belt, and definitely the dirties, though hopefully this rain will take care of that problem. And thus ends my first post in my new blog.
In a way, this is sort of a dream I've had, sitting in a coffee house surrounded by people I don't know, being able to write about the people I don't know, and the afore mentioned people I don't know have no idea that they are being mentioned. For instance, the older man sitting in the easy chair next to my little fire side table had been studiously reading and marking notes over some book, then had his ipad out. young Man across from me is reading a magazine, listening to something on his tablet with with his lap top bag on the floor next his feet. one elderly lady across from me is sipping her coffee and reading the news paper, and her elderly lady companion with her has been staring into the fire place for quite a while. This isn't my usual Starbucks. This is actually my first time to spend any length of time here besides waiting for my drink to be made. I've been here for a couple hours, writing up my message for my Youth group, of which I am the current director. Having been doing that for so long, and really finishing it, I decided to take a break and write a blog. Because coffee houses filled with techy people and blog writing seemed to go hand in hand with each other.
As I was saying though, this is my first time to sit and do anything at this Starbucks. My usual place is much more predictable in its surroundings. For instance, there will always be the man there in the table to the right of the doorway, every Wednesday with a portfolio of sketches and drawings laying out, and he sits there, either drawing or taking in his surroundings. There is the Barista who looks just like a young version of Doris Day, always there (though she thinks my name is Carol, which is what she writes on my cup, usually a caramel macchiato, with, of course, an extra shot of espresso) and the young man with gaged ears and too-tight pants making drinks. Its a comforting feeling sometimes, knowing things will be as usual, at least on Wednesdays at my usual Starbucks.But this being a different Starbucks, I got a different drink from my normal caramel, and decided on Vanilla latte (with, of course, that extra shot of espresso). Nothing like breaking the mold every now and then, just to shake things up. With that being said, and my latte being gone and my berry coffee cake eaten up, I will go now, out to my old little chevy, ( named Max). I never have trouble finding my car in this city. Its generally the oldest one in the parking lot (its a year 2000, but this is a very wealthy area) probably the noisiest, despite my new alternator and belt, and definitely the dirties, though hopefully this rain will take care of that problem. And thus ends my first post in my new blog.
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