I Watched Him Fall Apart at the Coffee Shop

They rush in and out so quickly - a staunch contrast to my passive watching. I wonder if they are happy. Do they like where they are at in life? Do they feel a hallowed loneliness? Or are they in love with the life they have? And how did they get there?

I sat behind this guy in the coffee shop today. But before I settled in that seat I noticed him watching me as I came in; noticed him watching every girl that came in, actually. I quickly scanned the shop for an empty table and as my luck would have it, the only available place was a table right next to his. I waited around awkwardly for my drink, hoping someone would leave before I had to sit next to him. But no one budged. So I took it; I turned the seat just enough so I was facing away from him. It didnt help. Finally the couple sitting behind him left and I raced to their table. Not much for a smooth transition, but I didnt seem to care at the time.

Sitting more comfortably at the back table, something about him caught my attention. He was a clean cut, business looking man sitting there with his lap top, talking on his cell phone. He spoke loudly in the phone about this report and that report and the stupid girl at the front office. I noticed his black slacks didnt match well with his brown dress shoes, although they were nicely polished. And his white button up shirt and burgundy pull over sweater made him seem older than Im sure he really was. He kept fidgeting and looking over his shoulder, staring out the window as if waiting for something that never came.

I had just about managed to pull my focus away from him when he began a new conversation on the phone, this time with what I can only assume was his wife or maybe a girlfriend. It wasnt too hard to tell that the person on the other side of the phone was upset. He kept talking about business and how it would always be there. Then he said something that has been stuck in my head ever since. He said, "You know, right now Im the black sheep at the office because Im not working 50 to 60 hours a week, ok?" Apparently he didnt get the response he was looking for because shortly thereafter he said I have to go and hung up the phone. He sat there shaking his head for a minute and then picked up the phone again. "Well talk about this later, ok?"

It made me sad to sit there and witness this random guy totally struggling; obviously torn between a job that took all he had and a girl who needed more. Its a battle we fight in this life and I couldnt help but sit there and wonder how any of us ever make it through.

I think you just have to get to a point when you realize that its what you want, despite the things that come along with it. You find at the deepest depths of your heart, a longing and love for another person that is there no matter what. And then its not so hard to love, to trust. Because you know they really will be there at the end of the day, when the smoke clears. Its who you want thats all it is.

Confessions of a Broken and Dejected Girlfriend

I recently had lunch with a close friend of mine. We sat there psycho-analyzing our personalities criticizing the little idiosyncrasies we have in our relationships with our significant others, why we do those things and the like. In a matter of three hours at a small table in the back of Red Robin, I surmounted that I have been the most selfish, demanding, critical, unappeasable, inflexible girlfriend that I could possibly be. And what's worse is that I realized shortly thereafter that in all those things, I have become the spitting image of my mother. It was such a shocking epiphany that I almost lost my lunch right there at the table. Okay, maybe not, but it was a grotesque realization nonetheless.

My ex lives about 30 minutes away and every weekend he drives out to my house. Never once have I offered to drive to his house. As a matter of fact, he asked me to once and I said no because it was raining and I didn't want to drive my car on the freeway in the rain. In all of that, he never complained about having to drive out to see me every single week. Talk about an underlying sense of frustration. I can only imagine how that has built up inside of him.

He happens to have an affinity for relatively expensive items, which I conversely view as an irresponsible waste of money. I've always felt justified in my stance over such things. While I'm not condoning the impulsive large purchases that cause life-long dept, I am realizing that I've been extremely hypocritical as I find myself spending money on things like pedicures, manicures, shoes I don't need, an unnecessarily large collection of purses and spending more than I'd like to admit on Starbucks every month.

Not only have I been hypocritical, but I've been absolutely wretched in the way I respond to his desires. We went out to dinner with another couple who are close mutual friends not too long ago. After dinner we went to Best Buy so I could buy the CD I've been wanting for weeks. As we walked around the store we noticed a new interactive video game that was like the old "Dance Dance Revolution" but with a guitar and no dancing (a much better combination if you ask me). Right away it became obvious to all of us that he wanted to buy it. Of course my knee-jerk reaction was a horridly disapproving look that shot him down faster than a motorcycle can turn him on (which by the way is pretty fast). I didn't even know how much the dumb thing cost but I protested right away, telling him that if he bought it there was no way he'd play it at my house. Could I have been a worse friend at that point? Yes, the answer is yes I dragged him over to the CD isle, grabbed the CD I wanted and proceeded to the check out line.

And in the most recent turn of events, the guy who has been crazy about me for years (according to a close mutual friend, I might add) has suddenly begun to retract; needing time and space to settle into his new job and think things through. I was shocked, to say the least. However, in retrospect, it's not surprising that this twist shook me enough to make me topple from the highest rung on that ladder I spoke of earlier. I've come to realize that I'm the most horrid, selfish, ridiculously prideful person I know. I feel bad for the poor guy, honestly putting up with me for so long.

I was eating with that same couple who witnessed the Best Buy episode just the other day, but this time it was just me and them. Right in the middle of dinner I realized, and consequently exclaimed out loud, "I should have told him buy that guitar game!" The shocked look on their faces didn't deter me from continuing on my rant, "And not just that, but I should have told him to buy it and we'd play it together at my place and we'd have fun, too. Why couldn't I just let him buy it? I even liked the dumb thing! Why couldn't I just say that!?"

"Everything is clearer in retrospect", was my friend's response. And all I could do was sit quietly in agreement. I usually pride myself on the ability to grow out of hardship and overcome the places I've fallen short. But I have to admit, I've never known regret quite the way I do now.

I Found Myself In A Coffee Shop

I went to Borders last night; bought a magazine and some coffee. The girl at the register looked down at the magazine entitled "The Writer" and asked, "Are you a writer?"

I admit, I was caught a little off guard; both at the fact that she would assume I must be a writer because of the magazine I was purchasing (if it was called "The Big Rig Driver" would she ask if I drove big rigs?) and because of the pointed question itself. So I thought to myself, "Am I a writer?" I halted that line of thought as I noticed her staring at me, waiting for an answer.

"Well, I try." I said.

"Yeah, me too." She replied.

I suppose none of this would matter except that the very reason I went to the book store was to sit in the coffee shop and ponder what in the world I was doing with my life and why I had seemingly abandoned all that ever meant anything to me.

All my life I've wanted to be a writer. I have journals dating as far back as... well, far back. I've been writing since I was old enough to hold a pencil and form letters on a page. No one taught me, I just did it. My greatest memory of high school was the creative writing class I took my sophomore year. And though that was almost nine years ago, when I think about the times in my life that mean anything to me, that one always comes up. When I graduated high school, I couldn't figure out what to do with my life and had no cause to go to college, until someone encouraged me to pursue my dream without worry of what the world thought. So I started college as an English major so I could write.

Now I'm 24 and have transferred to a university as a Business major and all I have to show as a decent manuscript is this blog? What happened? How did I end up here? At what point did I decide to give up? And how did I not notice? Those are the questions I pondered as I sat there in that coffee shop. I'd like to say I left that night with answers, but all I found were more questions.

How is it that the very lines which define our being, are the ones we try so hard to erase?
When do we decide to disengage the ones who help us breath?
What makes us give up hope in the very things which defined the hope of who we are?
Why do we trade the essence of ourselves for the picture of who we're not?
What do you do when you look up and see how far away from yourself you are?
How do you get back?