Showing posts with label People Watching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label People Watching. Show all posts

Monday, April 19, 2010

On Wasting Time

I’m sitting in a little coffee shop, sipping my iced coffee and trying to work. I’ve got my laptop open and my thesis in front of me, steno pad at the ready, and a stack of books open (ebooks, not real ones). Yet, I’m finding it hard to actually work. Can you believe it?

The whole goal of coming to work here was to get away from the familiar – the easy distractions and comfort of my own home where I spend most of my days. It’s easy to ignore what you are supposed to be doing in favor of doing other things – even good things, but not what you were originally supposed to be doing.

But the problem with coming to work in such a public forum is that when I’m in the mood to people-watch (always), I am easily distracted. For instance, rather than forming a list of questions, I’m watching the people walking by on the street. Instead of rewording my one-line questions into multiple-choice, I’m watching the interaction between an older couple at the next table. Instead of doing what I’m supposed to be doing, I’m writing this. In other words, instead of wasting time at home, I’m wasting time here. It would probably be better if I was wasting it at home because then I’m usually doing something semi-productive like sewing or cleaning.

{sigh}

And right at that point, they closed the coffee shop early for the day. The nerve of some people. :)

I love writing and I usually don’t have a problem writing. But now that the thesis is all written, I’m at the hard part – coming up with questions and turning my writing into a curriculum. Quite frankly, I stink at this part.

I’m almost there! I just keep telling myself…if I work hard and meet the deadline, this will all be over in two weeks, and hopefully sooner. :)

Monday, February 15, 2010

The Bookworm

A pile of books before her, she caressed them all lovingly. First two even stacks, then switching books from one pile to another, adding more to one pile, then all into one large pile again. She took pictures on her phone, her mittened hands fumbling with the keys. First a picture of the large stack, then smaller stack, then each individual book was picked up, rubbed with affection, and photographed from all angles - front cover, back cover, spine, inside introduction pages.

She didn't look like a typical bookworm. Dark hair chopped short with a shock of pink straight above her eyes. Piercings in her ears, her eyebrows, her lip. Striped toe socks with flip-flops, cut-off jeans. What was this for? Why all this caressing and sighing? Why all this intrigue over the selection of a book? Why the pictures?

"I feel so spoiled," she said to the boyfriend who wasn't listening, then presented the reason behind all of this. It was a gift card, which she laid on the table, eyes shining. "100 dollars!" she exclaimed, then added sadly, "but I can't get them all." Then she divided her piles again, gave a sad glance at those she left behind, and walked away with her new treasures.