To write. Without bounds. *sigh* This feels good. To put whatever I feel like on paper.
There's a friend talking with a guy about Haiti and orphans a couple tables over. He'll probably save the world some day. There's a guy I see everywhere sitting two tables a across. I know some of his story but he doesn't know me. Two girls talk...in an unannoying way, thankfully. Cuz girls can be so annoying. A girl with cute bangs and a chunky blue eyed baby talks to her date. I hope he goes for her. She seems sweet and with a baby she'll probably have a harder time finding a man. And who wouldn't want to be this baby's daddy? There's a bookshelf with old books and a yellow daisy on it. A barista works in the other room.
My chai is gone. It was good. Obviously.
Me. I'm here too. I'm trying to write a story without getting distracted by facebook and e-mail and blogs and such. It's hard. Especially because I'm stuck with the story. It's a good story. With a good end. And I'm at the end but I can't figure out how to give it the bang impact that I want it to have. It kind of ends with a bla instead of a kaboom. I feel like I've worked this thing to death.
And I'm hungry. Should I go buy something? I think I should. Maybe an americano too. That's kind of alot of money to spend on writing a story that's not getting written.
I had an interview today. With a coffee stand. They're not open
yet. All the better. There won't be a snippy group of girls that won't accept me into their elite coffee makers clique. I'm sick of coming into a new job only to find that. And the boss wants to hire happy people. It sounds weird. But I get it. It's all the way out far in the county, but if they offer I'll take it. *fingers crossed*
There's weird pictures on the wall in here. They have eyeballs and mouths and teeth but no real shape at all. It's kind of creepy.
Now I'm going to write this story. I can do this. Right? Right.
Um.....ya. I'm not convinced.
But I have to try. It was due on the second. Oops.