GyanGurus

Random musings from last year.

It feel nice to be sitting in here, all alone, surrounded by all these people who have purpose. I have a purpose, just not right at this moment, but I don’t feel bad about it right now. Which is really good…I don’t really remember the last time I didn’t feel good sitting at a coffee shop – at least one that looked like this one. This one has a really warm feeling…you know where the furniture doesn’t match and the decoration doesn’t really make sense but it all goes together to create the perfect feeling. There’s also a mural. Also, the ceiling is amazing here and it has all these dark wood accents – basically my kind of place and the closest I’m going to get to feeling like I’m sitting in Paris – although, I have no idea how Paris actually feels like. But, I can imagine and as you can imagine, I have to rely on that quite a bit.

I always imagine that once I get to Paris… I’ll sit outside at a cafe in Paris and people-watch or read a book while sipping champagne or coffee with some delectable french pastry. I have these flights of fancy all the time – there’s one that takes place in Italy. I ride a bike, wearing a gorgeous summer-dress, with a flower-basket that has fresh picked wildflowers. I’m such a cliche and most of the time, I love it. I just realized that I went off on a tangent. I was going to talk about the kind of book I would be reading while sitting at a cafe. Something I never read now, but I always wanted to you know…like Fitzgerald, Joyce or Edgar Allen Poe – I always have to say his whole name, it’s a great name isn’t it? The last time I read one of these authors was in high school, it’s a depressing state of affairs when it comes to reading. I’ve read some recent stuff, books that came out in the last two decades and lots of fashion magazines, but no classics.

I can’t believe I’ve written all this right now. Usually, I have a horrible time writing. Sometimes I get struck by inspiration and I’ll write a ‘poem.’ But, in general writing hasn’t come easy in the past few years. I’m still surprised though at the amount of poetry I’ve written. I used to think it was impossible. The first poem I wrote, at least as far as I can remember, was during the senior year of high school. It was horrible. it took forever to come to me, but it was the worst thing ever. All the other students wrote such brilliant, insightful things. Which makes me realize that I’m a late bloomer. Usually people get all “angsty” during their high school year, and of course I had my moments, but I don’t remember ever dwelling so much on it. I’m much more in my head since I finished college. I haven’t accomplished most of what I thought would have by time I reached the twenty-five year mark. The last three years have been spent in an on and off depressed state, which coincides with the writing and poems. God, I always feel like this is all I talk about. But, this is pretty much all I think about…so again with the sense-making, once I’ve thought it through.

Sona
11/16/11