I decided it was time to follow another one of the steps that most contemporary writers follow to become famous. I'm not speaking of doing drugs or drinking a lot because I've already done that. I'm not talking about cutting off my body parts, or someone else's, and eating them because I've heard that human flesh isn't the greatest of tastes. I'm not a big fan of massive amounts of blood either; it's to hard to clean up.
The step I'm following is the ever popular sitting down in a coffee shop somewhere, listening to James Taylor on the shops "muzak" station, and writing. Ok no wait, the Doors, "Riders on the Storm" is on now. That's more my style.
Why do writers do this? Does the quiet meets loud atmosphere of a coffee shop help inspire the writer to go beyond the infinite and write his or her masterpiece? It seems like a distraction to me. I mean I love coffee, even though I'm drinking black tea now, but can't I just make some at my house instead? That way I don't have to worry about the weirdness of chilling next to five cops sitting next to me. Not to mention the hot girl sitting two tables down. I find myself concentrating less and less on my writing and more and more on what she's doing. It looks like homework. She's drinking some of the Snapple diet tea. I love the idea of diet tea. I hope some of you are laughing at how ridiculous that sounds.
Anyway she's got a laptop plugged in and some headphones on her head. I wonder what she's listening too. She looks way to smart to be listening to silly pop. Yet she looks to happy to be listening to something on the depressing side. She looks city enough to not like country, yet country enough to not like rock. Maybe she's rocking it out to some jazz or something. Yeah I like the idea of that. Pretty girl sitting in a coffee shop listening to some Dave Brubeck. That is just sexy.
She just looked up at me. Our eyes met in a moment of silence. Partially because we both are listening to music and would have to yell over our headphones to say hi, but sometimes silent looks are far better than spoken words.
She looks so sad and bored. She's probably doing psychology homework. I hated my psych 101 class. I thought I was going to learn about cool experiments and stuff. Oh God, Jimmy Buffet is on. The girl and I are glad we brought our own music. Anyway, early classes suck because you just learn the concepts and not all the weird stuff that used to go on.
I just looked up and saw that she had a nose ring. Not one of those little speck things that you put on the side of your face. She's got a real one. You don't see many of those anymore. Especially on someone who doesn't look like they've been to jail before, and I think its safe to say that she hasn't.
Let me tell you about this stranger across the room. Her name is Emily and she's twenty-one years old. She doesn't like to drink beer or wine. Actually she doesn't like to drink much at all, but when she does, she drinks something classy like a martini or vodka and cranberry juice.
She's a really picky eater because her mom always made her eat her horrible cooking. She doesn't like steak or any real meat, but she likes chicken. Fish are completely out of question. Her father left her mother when she was fourteen years old, and she will never forgive him for that.
Even though psych 101 is boring, she's studying psychology because she wants to know why people can be so mean. She's not really religious, but she believes in God and Jesus. She goes to church on Christmas and Easter only because its tradition, and that's the only time she's home. She doesn't hate her mother by any means, she just enjoys her apartment here by school. She's doing that thing called growing up. However, she does realize that she should spend some more time with her mother because her mom has lead a pretty difficult life, and more often than not, she's lonely.
Part of me wonders what a pretty girl like her is doing alone at a coffee shop alone at 9:30 on a Friday night two blocks from one of the biggest party zones in the state. Maybe she likes to come here now because its quiet and away from the party life she hates. Or maybe she used to spend this time with someone she loved who has gone away.
Its weird, she hasn't look away from the wall in fifteen minutes. I wonder if she knows that she's being stalked.
Well, its almost time for me to go. I didn't get the inspiration I had hoped to get but this gave me something to do, and Emily, this is for you.
Emily,
Remember to smile more often because you are beautiful.
You are smarter then most of your friends and family and you know that.
But what you don't realize is that you have a bigger heart than anyone you'll ever meet.
Spend some more time with your mother, she loves you and she misses you.
You don't have to forgive your dad, but understand that sometimes people are just mean.
Science doesn't have all the answers and neither does religion.
Keep listening to that jazz, but look into some other music too.
Jazz isn't the only music filled with soul, I promise.
Finally, I'm glad to have met you even though we've never met.
I hope to see you again two tables down, or across the street.
Someday I hope to finally hear your voice.
I bet its as beautiful as your soul.
Nice nose ring.
-Jack
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