An Afternoon at the Coffee Shop

I had a moment of procrastination yesterday at my neighborhood coffee shop. These are the results, in a mostly un-edited stream of consciousness.

Sitting in a coffee shop - the local - by myself, but not alone, because there are other customers here as well. Hands loosely wrapped around a steaming mug of new coffee - my refill, for which I paid in cash - exactly, which is a rare occurrence. The sun is not bright, but the sky is blue and the windows are floor-to-ceiling, the kind that open in warm weather to extend the seating to a patio on the corner. My neighbor at the next table seems to be one of those who needs to attract attention by everything he does - making noises, bouncing around, listening to noises presented through the speakers of his laptop, fiercely punching the keys on the keyboard. He has also flipped through his book, which sent cool drafts of book and coffee-scented air my way - something I don't care for, as it invades the personal space bubble I have constructed around myself and which I carry with me everywhere I go. The second cup is not as delicious as the first, but at least it is warm. I have been distracted from reading about book history - after so many pages I need a break, lose concentration, find myself reading paragraphs without understanding or remembering the contents. Two others, on the other side of my irritating neighbor, have been discussing scripts and theaters and props. They seem to have been discussing the development of a play. Both are dressed snazzily, with wool coats and hats and patterned scarves. They left just now, sending cold air from outside drifting back around the shop, bringing goosebumps to my arms and face and shivers to my spine. So I wrap my hands around my coffee mug again and stare into space. 

I'll Leave Hibernation to the Bears, And the Snakes

No matter how hard I try to entertain myself in my warm, cozy apartment, it just never works for longer than a day. I might have a short attention span. Or I might have a serious aversion to doing things like chores, and mending, and ... other things "around the house."

Today is the second day I've been at home, and although I spent an entertaining forty minutes working out, and some productive time (read: one hour) working, I've been watching t.v. shows that, frankly, I'm not that interested in, and napping.

I'm getting stir-crazy. Cabin fever. Restless.

Tomorrow I'm going out. At least for a little while. Break up the monotony. Apparently, even though daydreaming and surfing the internet aimlessly is supposed to start the creative juices flowing, it's not something I've mastered. Yet.

Sugar High

It's more like a Sugar Crash at this point, but I still remember the giddiness of the high! The library just had a special event that was all about cupcakes. Just cupcakes! I had three. I needed to celebrate turning in four essays in the past week. (Rationalization is key to living a guilt-free life... sometimes).

Having turned in those essays, I have a few days to relax. Not everything this past week was about the essays, though. I've been doing a lot of volunteering and projects with the alumni club and the library.

Yesterday I finally got my first look at the rare books in the library! I wrote useful (I hope they're useful) notes about them, such as their condition, the binding, whether or not anybody had written marginalia in them... Fun stuff, really. Nerdy stuff, too, I guess.

Because I have a big mouth (read: I love sharing and talking about the exciting things I'm doing), I also orientated a friend today, who will be helping me out with the rare books project now, and probably doing some reference desk seat-warming, as well. While I was demonstrating website functions and other such important details, we decided to have another look at the rare books, and pick one out that we thought a likely candidate for some special treatment. Found one in a box that said "fragile" or words to that effect, and, opening it, discovered a text from 1854 (I can't remember the subject) with marginalia. Marginalia! My new obsession. Okay, so there weren't a lot of notes, but the front cover and first blank page did contain a note from the editor to the recipient, who happened to be the editor's father-in-law, or some other in-law, as well as a mark of ownership. Thrilling.

Confrontational Skills

An awkwardly-named life skill, but useful all the same. Learning how to have difficult conversations is one of those things no one really wants to think about. Many people I know (myself included) would prefer to never have difficult conversations, if at all possible. However, holding one's frustration close to the vest and muttering for months about how inconsiderate people are is much more disruptive to internal peace and balance. Trust me, I know.

(Okay, I admit, I've read some advice columns that I've come across in my daily internet-trawling. But just because they're advice columns, doesn't mean they don't have good advice. In fact, you'd hope they would have better advice than some others, paid as they are to give it.)

I thought I wouldn't have to worry about these conversations concerning my living situation, since I am paying for a single-person apartment. Except, I'm living in a basement. In a house with thin walls. And a door from my bedroom to the rest of the basement. The rest of the basement, which apparently contains my landlords' washer/dryer and broom/utility closet.

This state of affairs has resulted in many frustrating mornings, with me trying to sleep in to the comfortably late hours of 8 or 9, and my landlords getting up purposefully and regularly around 7, walking around, getting breakfast, sweeping, cleaning, vacuuming, doing laundry... So I get woken up several times between those two sets of hours. Incidentally, I end up sleeping later to try to make up for the lost time between 7 and 8 or 9am.

Leading me to my next difficult conversation, which I mean to have on my way to campus to finish and start my essays due this week.

Update: I spoke confidently and without hesitation, and thus the conversation went remarkably well. Practice makes perfect? Readiness is all?

Don't Ask Me to Juggle

By now you know all about my extra-curricular activities, which mostly involve volunteering at fun places, and you're quite possibly also aware that I really am gaining valuable (and fun!) learning and work experience while volunteering.

I'm enjoying those activities (and the soccer games and swim appointments) so much, in fact, that I would much rather concentrate on them, than on my schooling. Which is when I start barely-catching that blue-colored ball that has "essays" written all over it. If I hadn't already decided that I'm in school for more than the marks I receive on essays and exams, I'd be feeling pretty low right about now. For the first time in my life (yes, I've been privileged) I'm paying my own insanely expensive tuition fees, and to not be taking advantage of all the, err, advantages of being at school, well... you can see where I'm going.

So it's a good thing I'm also doing my best to make connections, to network, and to build up my work experience. By juggling the bright, orange and green balls labeled "Hart House Library" and "event planning." Also known as procrastination. Which is, in fact, what I'm doing right now, instead of pulling together my notes for one of the two essays due on Monday.