Starbucks Scribblings

The writer in the corner meets my gaze across Starbucks. I think she knows that I saw her look of fervent concentration and the odd face she made.
< don't worry, i make that face too >
I wonder what she's writing; I wonder if she's a Writer or just a writer. It doesn't really matter. I just want to know.
Mr. iPad-plugged-into-the-wall is getting up and leaving his iPad still plugged into the wall. A trusting individual.
Bill with the "diver down" symbol on his name tag is wearing Merrells and khaki shorts. Despite the full head of snow white hair, I imagine him to be the adventuring type.
There's a Half Pint in a teal button up and red tie. His mom got him an ice water; she got a Venti iced macchiato. What kind of person dresses their kid up that fancy on a weekday? He looks interview ready at the not so ripe age of six.

My tall, iced, two pumps of caramel in coffee with 2% milk came free with a coffee priced donation to tornado relief efforts. That wasn't a hard choice to make.
I'm hoping the caffiene will keep me going tonight on my long vigil with other people's memories. Though, I'll get to sleep in tomorrow, so it's not gonna be too bad. Tomorrow begins a weekend of celebration.
Two of my best friends are getting married. It's my first college friend wedding--the first of many more to come I'm sure--Also, its my first wedding in the capacity of bridesmaid. I've made a mental checkmark towards the old supersition. Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride. I can only consent to being in two more weddings before getting married myself. ... that is, if I believed in that superstition. I don't. But I believe in the  tradition of it. There's a big difference.

I keep coming back to Writer girl.  I'm almost positive she's a capital "W" Writer. She mutters to herself and looks thoughtfully at her computer screen before cocking her head and typing away.

My coffee is running dry. I have to plunge my straw in at a different angle to get the last precious drops. The ice slowly melts, making that glorious freezing water with a hint of coffee flavor.

Bill-the-adventuring-type walks by and I can see that his name tag say he works at the Tennessee Aquarium. I was right about him at least. Aquariums are adventurous right? I'd say so.

now, I'm just writing just to write. I needed to force myself to put words on paper, then online. My writing muscles have grown a little stiff. They need exercise. This is how I do it. It's why I blog. The audience of the internet... the handful of facebook friends who read my blog... my mom.... Dr. Impson... knowing that they're out there reading, makes me want to write. It forces me to produce, just a little bit every now and then, and nothing terribly great, but it's a release. When I write, I am Named. Too long without it, and I get antsy with myself.  The thoughts in my head become backlogged... some just get lost to nothingness, and I mourn their loss, angry with myself for not having captured them while I had the chance.
Just scribbling away here...


2 comments

  1. "When I write, I am Named. " Lovely line, and so true. I love reading even your "exercise" writing!

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  2. Glad I'm not the only one who enjoys people watching as much as coffee at Starbucks. ;)

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