I'm in that awkward situation right now where I am sitting in a coffee shop (NOT my place of work, but I can guarantee you I will smell like coffee by the time I leave), and I chose a spot by the door. Not just by the door, I can live with the nice cool breeze of late fall air. FACING the door. So I'm the first thing that every single person looks at before they walk into the store. Being an animal (humans are animals), whenever I see movement, my attention goes to the person/thing that is moving. That is what a good, alert animal does, right? Well this is definitely not working out for me.
I end up staring at the person with a “What is going on?” look, and they casually return the look as they pull open the door. We continue locking gazes until I pretend to slightly cough and turn my attention back to my computer. It's not like I want to creepily stare at them, it's just human nature! And I'm pretty sure the guy sitting behind me right now thinks I have a really bad cold and should take some cough medicine for the amount of coughing that I am doing. For a Friday night, this place sure seems like a hot spot!
Now, I know what you're thinking: KG, it is a Friday night! Why are you wasting your time in a coffee shop when you could be out partying, hanging out with friends, doing anything else besides sitting in a coffee shop?! And on 11/11/11?! For shame!!
Good question.
I had every intention to not be at a coffee shop. In fact, three days ago, my plan by this time was to be doing my hair and make-up and getting ready for a wedding (going to a wedding; not having one myself, as lovely as that would be). Things did not fall through however, and, let's just leave it to rest at the fact that I am no longer attending said wedding. But, I would like to send out a huge congratulations to the bride and groom: Steph and Dan, I hope you both have a fantastic night and enjoy spending the rest of your lives together. You both deserve every happiness.
So, back to me in the coffee shop. A guy just walked in. He smiled. At me.
I coughed and looked down. Maybe I am getting a cold? Or maybe I'm just too afraid of talking to people. I wouldn't doubt either of the hypotheses.
I'm finding it very entertaining how many people are having trouble opening the door, though. I understand that it is getting colder out and the air pressure inside and outside and all that scientific crap, but really? It's one of those super-easy-to-open doors! I didn't have problems (that I know of) opening the door. A guy just literally put all of his weight on the door and it didn't open. I feel bad watching people struggle like that, but at least I'm not laughing.
Yet.
Okay! Back to the point of this blog post! So last night I was lying in bed and I was truly troubled because I didn't know what to write about for all of you lovely people. Then I thought about things that I do or think that make me super weird and would be interesting to read about. So here goes one of my deepest (maybe not the deepest), darkest (maybe not the darkest) and more interesting (again, not the most interesting) secrets that I have: When I see people I don't know, I make up stories for them.
Some of you just went, “Oh my goodness, I do that too!” And the rest of you went, “Wait, what do you mean, you make up stories? Do you, like, tell them stories?”
Here is what I do, I see a person (I will give you examples in the following paragraphs), and I have no clue of their name/past/life. First thing I will do is name them. Second, I will think of a reason as to why they could be here. Thirdly, I fill in the rest of their life. Now, I'm sitting facing a corner, so in order to do this, I must move to sit on the other side of the table. I can guarantee the guy sitting behind me will be a little weirded out that I am switching sides, and therefore be facing him, but he can suck it up and deal with it.
All situated, and he didn't seem too weirded out. We're in business.
First victim: Her name is Mary. She is about 5' 5” and has greasy, dirty blonde hair that is pulled back into a bun. A scar marks her right cheek as a constant reminder of her accident. She is sitting with her mother, Valerie. Her mother, with a short, blonde bob of hair and gold-rimmed glasses sitting atop her nose, shakes her head as they talk about their life. Mary viciously glances around at everyone in the place, as she worriedly talks to her mother. She throws me a few glances, and I respond by looking deep into the keys of my laptop. She talks to her mother about her trailer, how she is finding it hard to pay the bills. Her mother returns with a heartily chuckle. She motions for the door, and they walk out together. (Too bad they left, I would have loved to go in depth on the accident and what happened. Maybe I will continue this another day.)
Second Victim: Her name is Julianne. Red curls flow down from the roots of her head, past her shoulders, almost carrying all the way to her elbow. She has swept all of her hair to her right side, her head cocked slightly in the same direction to stop her hair from leaving its' place. Her long, fragile neck glistens in the small beam of sunlight from the window behind her. A smile stretches from her face as she checks her phone. It is the current man in her life, Leo. His full name is Leonardo, but after their second date to that beautiful Italian restaurant, as he held her close, he whispered in her ear, “You can call me Leo.” As soon as she arrived home, she changed the contact in her phone from 'Leonardo' to 'Leo'. Whenever he texts or calls, it is a small reminder of the wonderful night at the restaurant, and the events that happened after. He texts telling her that he misses her smile and how he needs to see her again soon. She holds up her phone and texts him back. She tries to control the smile on her face, but it cannot be hidden. “Did you want to go out at”, she glances down at her computer for the time. 4:00pm. She thinks to herself, if I leave in an hour, I can go home, get ready and be ready by 6:00. She finishes the text and sends it to him, then goes back to work on her computer, the ghost of a smile still haunting her face.
(At this point in time, I feel creepy, because everything she does can in some way relate to the story and I believe it to be truth. Plus I think the guy who was sitting behind me, now across from me, has noticed how often I look over at her and is wondering what the heck I am doing. But I continue!)
She refreshes her Facebook page on her computer, waiting to see if Leo has accepted her friend request yet so she can look through his profile. She sees a close friend of hers, Charlotte, online and quickly chats her about the potential date with Leo. Charlotte has been Julianne's close friend since junior year in high school. Now, both in their mid-twenties, they still remain as close as ever.
(Made contact with the guy sitting across/behind me. Asked him to watch my stuff while I went to the restroom. Not only did he accept my offer with a “Sure!” but my stuff was still there when I got back! Bonus!)
She anxiously jumps as she watches her phone vibrate on the table next to her laptop. She grabs at her phone, but realizes she must look over-dramatic, and slows herself down as to protect her image. She opens the text and it reads, “I would love to take you out again. Unfortunately, I'm working late tonight. How does 8:30pm work?” She overlooks the fact that this is the fourth time in a row she has wanted to get dinner and he has pushed it back because he has “worked late”. She sees this as him being hardworking and doesn't calculate that this past week, he has worked an unusual 65 hours. She doesn't bother calculating how many hours he has worked, even though she thinks she knows the exact 65 hours he has worked.
(Three more people have stopped at the door, not been able to open one side, and had to use the other side. It doesn't take that much muscle, people!)
A notification pops up on her Facebook page. Her expression lightens, seeing it is him accepting her friend request. She quickly jumps to his profile and reads everything that is on his wall and in the information section. Her expression hardens in a matter of seconds. She goes through picture after picture; him and Carly kissing, Anne sitting on his lap, Victoria hugging him from behind, both smiling at the camera, Samantha kissing him on the cheek as he flashes a smile to the camera, Beth and him sitting together in one chair at a bonfire, both unaware of the camera and distracted by each others' lips. She gets instantly disgusted as she goes to his Facebook wall and sees post after post from random girls saying how much they miss him and how they had a great time the last time they were together.
(The guy sitting behind/across from me and I just had awkward eye contact. I'm afraid to look up from my computer again....)
She clicks on the most recent post. A message from Amanda that reads, “I miss you so much! When can I see you again?? ;)”, and Julianne becomes concerned as to what lies in the 27 comments. A Facebook error page pops up. It reads, “An error has occurred: This post may have been deleted or reported and is no longer available.” Her jaw drops. What was in those 27 comments on his Facebook page? She refreshes his profile and all of the pictures and posts have disappeared. The most recent post is now one of his statuses, the night that he and Julianne were together at the Italian restaurant. The status reads, “Just had one of the best nights of my life. I can't wait to spend another day with her.”
(Julianne is still here, but I got bored with her story, for now, and wish to move on.)
Third victim: His name is James. He sits at his table, behind his computer, motionless except for the slight movement of his fingers on the keyboard. His five o’clock shadow has turned into pristine facial hair as No-Shave November continues. He has a troubled look on his face as he types on his computer. He is on Facebook, and his girlfriend is messaging him with pre-break-up phrases. “I'm so confused right now”, “Things don't look like they are working out”, “I don't know what to think anymore”. It wasn't anything he did, and he knew that this moment was coming. Every other one of her boyfriends she had broken up with when they got too close. Sure he cared about her, but he knew this was going to happen from the moment he asked her out. He just wanted something to pass the time. Now he realized that he wanted someone a bit more serious about relationships. He cuts to the chase and sends her a message, “Are you happy with me, or did you want to break up?” His intentions were never to break up with her over the internet, but if she started the conversation, he might as well make her decide rather than let her play with his emotions. She messaged back, “I love you, but it's just not working. I'm so sorry”, and signed offline. Within another two minutes, she changed her relationship status on Facebook to single. In five minutes time, she had updated her status from her phone saying, “I hate crying. I hate this feeling of emptiness. . . :(“. Upon seeing this, James couldn't help but laugh. She broke up with him and she's the one upset? Oh well, he thought shrugging his shoulders. He looked up to the girl who was sitting across from him in the coffee shop he was at. Her hair flowed straight down over her shoulders and her eyes were locked on her computer screen and she continuously typed away. He thought that she was very attractive, and she seemed very kind when she had asked him to watch her stuff while she used the restroom. She had a beautiful smile, also. Now that there was nothing stopping him, he slowly rose from his seat and walked over to the unsuspecting girl.
Well, I hope you guys enjoyed my scenarios. Yes, I was the unsuspecting girl and no that did not actually happen. It was just part of the story. (Although there is still time for it to come true!) If you lovely people found any/all of these scenarios interesting and want me to continue, let me know! I would love to write more about these random people in the coffee shop, or if you guys want to hear new ones, just comment and let me know what you want!
Happy Veteran's Day!
Oh, and Happy 11/11/11!
K.G. Sunshine
P.S. By the title, it looks like I have bad grammar, but it is in the voice of the Barista handing out the drink, not a person ordering.
Love your blog sis!! :)
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