to Liore, for being excited about going to Brasil's, so that I dragged my lazy self across the city and ended up having a lot of fun dancing.
to the blond-haired and super nice guy who I know from salsa parties at Take the Lead and whose name I always forget, who is a wonderful lead, for coming to me for a salsa dance.
to the soft-spoken guy at Brasil's who seemed interested in me in a way shy enough that it did not come across creepy at all.
to Lauren, for cooking french toast for brunch and chatting.
to Ted, for letting me borrow his tie, and for suggesting eating outside, because it was completely beautiful out.
to Adam and Gan, for - well, they know.
to Senthil, for being one of the sweetest people I know and buying me a drink.
to the 21 bus, for running at 1:45 in the morning.
to Café Clave for playing amazing music. I specifically noticed I was enjoying quite a number of songs.
to Mom, for being excited about my work on the database for her.
to Andrew and Simone, for listening to me being sad after reading some more of The Time Traveler's Wife.
Showing posts with label café. Show all posts
Showing posts with label café. Show all posts
Monday, August 9, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
The café addiction
...I have it.
On any number of nights I am tempted strongly enough by the allure of the café to overcome my tendencies to bum the night away in my room and walk 2.7 blocks over to Saxbys. At Penn, I went to Starbucks often to sit and (theoretically) work, and enough times in the mornings before class that the employees knew me and asked how my summer was at the beginning of senior year. Any time I end up in a Starbucks, actually -- wherever it may be -- I feel a bit of a sense of being home. Now, in Philly, I've kind of made it a goal to seek out small independent street corner coffee shops and spend my Sunday afternoons in them.
The café atmosphere has some kind of mental effect on me. It has a peace and calm about it; makes me feel like things can't really go wrong. Stress is lessened somehow, cuz you've got a couple hours of a squishy armchair, warm lighting, relaxing music, and probably a hot drink that'll either prop you awake or take up too much of your daily allotment of calories. Or a muffin -- gosh, I have gotten bad about eating too many muffins. Those and scones. I probably consume one or the other of them on more days of the week than not.
Calories designated unimportant, I sit down with my muffin or my mocha and my laptop, whiling away the time alongside others in front of their own screens or books. We're in our own little worlds, but together in one world as well. And thus the time goes by.
Sometimes I picture my life filled by lazy days, writing and drinking coffee, staring out windows at the world and people-watching as customers flow in and out or join my habitat of the day for a few hours. And my butt will probably hurt often, and I'll still eat too many scones, and the guy at the counter will know my favorite drink. Maybe I'll get brave enough to wear pajama pants occasionally and really cuddle up in a corner for awhile. (Not sure how acceptable pajama pants are as attire worn in public after, like, high school. Perhaps if I'm a known regular at the place...)
Well, it's a dream, anyhow. Someday maybe.
On any number of nights I am tempted strongly enough by the allure of the café to overcome my tendencies to bum the night away in my room and walk 2.7 blocks over to Saxbys. At Penn, I went to Starbucks often to sit and (theoretically) work, and enough times in the mornings before class that the employees knew me and asked how my summer was at the beginning of senior year. Any time I end up in a Starbucks, actually -- wherever it may be -- I feel a bit of a sense of being home. Now, in Philly, I've kind of made it a goal to seek out small independent street corner coffee shops and spend my Sunday afternoons in them.
The café atmosphere has some kind of mental effect on me. It has a peace and calm about it; makes me feel like things can't really go wrong. Stress is lessened somehow, cuz you've got a couple hours of a squishy armchair, warm lighting, relaxing music, and probably a hot drink that'll either prop you awake or take up too much of your daily allotment of calories. Or a muffin -- gosh, I have gotten bad about eating too many muffins. Those and scones. I probably consume one or the other of them on more days of the week than not.
Calories designated unimportant, I sit down with my muffin or my mocha and my laptop, whiling away the time alongside others in front of their own screens or books. We're in our own little worlds, but together in one world as well. And thus the time goes by.
Sometimes I picture my life filled by lazy days, writing and drinking coffee, staring out windows at the world and people-watching as customers flow in and out or join my habitat of the day for a few hours. And my butt will probably hurt often, and I'll still eat too many scones, and the guy at the counter will know my favorite drink. Maybe I'll get brave enough to wear pajama pants occasionally and really cuddle up in a corner for awhile. (Not sure how acceptable pajama pants are as attire worn in public after, like, high school. Perhaps if I'm a known regular at the place...)
Well, it's a dream, anyhow. Someday maybe.
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