I hate to leave that last post lingering with it's negativity ... So I thought I would type up some ramblings I jotted down a few days ago.
Somewhere along my quest to meet new people I realized that new people don't exist in my awesome apartment. Weird, right? They don't come across my dirty dishes or sit down on my shrunken couch. My solitaire outdoor adventures are hardly promising either ... New people certainly don't have the same stride as me on the trails. People do things. We all exist, at least in part, in public.
I suppose I left the house to be seen. Why else would I choose to do the private, quiet act of reading in a busy, public space that provides anything but concentration. I can't read here. But I can pretend to read here. And I can definitely write with my brown Sharpe here. Best of all I can subconsciously, semi-intentionally ease drop here.
At first the group of three older, eccentric men (leopard print hats, leather bomber jackets, flannel and snow pants eccentric) and one young, attractive girl in her twenties intrigued me. What brought this unlikely group of beings together?? Now I have heard enough of their institutional banter and think I will return to pretending to read my over-priced books. Better yet... I'll move onto eating my apple.
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