Thoughts from a Starbucks

March 6, 2009

I wonder why I rarely come to Starbucks to write anymore, but as I sit here with my coffee tonight, I remember.

I don’t do this because it reminds me that I used to do this in pairs. C and I would sit in various Champaign/Urbana cafes reading and writing, pondering and debating. Now its just me and my iPod. Another example of my solitude. I travel alone. I eat alone. I go to movies alone.

I am comforted by my Starbucks surroundings. In every city in every country they all look the same. The sea of people is the same. There is solidarity in coffee drinking I guess.

I need this time away though. No watch or phones. I am usually reachable 24/7 by 2 Blackberries, half a dozen email addresses, a handful of messenger programs and even a doorbell. Here, even though I am escaping nothing, I am away from it all. How odd it is that here is where I feel most connected to the world.

I’m surrounded by people. The girl studying while her mother does her crossword puzzles. I hope she knows how lucky she is. I never did this with my mother. The guy with his face in a book. Literally. Has noone told him of his obvious need for a new prescription? The couple crowded (though in their world, they probably call it cuddling) in the armchair. Past them is just a sea of laptops.

I am in the back, against the wall in the corner. Alone. Observant. Invisible. No discernable characteristics to write of. Coffee. Cupcake. iPod.

There is a scar on the back of my right hand I accidentally gave myself that catches my eye as I’m writing.

Even my scars are solitary.

I am wrong. I really should do this more often.

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