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Post by kurt on Feb 28, 2009 11:17:03 GMT 10
the first to say no,ensemble; here.
time; late afternoon.
What had he accomplished today? So far, nothing too extraordinary. He'd peed about four times in the past hour from way too much coffee. He'd typed his name out on a word document on that shiny little laptop Daddy'd sent him a year back. Oh, Ian, what are we going to do with you?
He was pushing the afternoon onto the brink of evening, the tall, rather lanky senior sat at the little table in the corner of the café—eyebrows drawn together in a rather drab fashion. He sighed, taking the thick square rimmed glasses off, and rose. The little laptop computer had been sitting at that table for a few hours now; there wasn’t too much to show for it. A blank Microsoft word program and three empty cups of coffee didn’t make progress obvious now did it? Oh, and did I mention it looked like Ian was going on a fourth cup? Need I go on? His iPod was more than half drained of its batteries, and he was running out of spare change—but all in a day’s work, correct? It was always fun scrambling to finish off an assignment at the last minute. Ian rose, running hands over the front of his black jeans. The colour wasn’t exactly a good choice for this sort of day. He’d be covered in lint in a matter of minutes after sliding back into his car. Anywho. It wasn’t an unusual thing for Beetles to be bustling around this time of the day; and the line was quite bothersome. He slid into the back- intending to wait for yet another cup of coffee and another two dollars he would no longer possess. He didn’t quite know why he insisted on Beetles whenever he had a project to finish off before the next day of classes, it wasn’t like there was anything too spectacular about the little joint.
Sure, it had coffee on hand, but what else did it have to offer? While in line he pondered the thought, as he often did, a young male without much to do to bide his time. When it came to means of concentration the place had nothing to offer. However, if you were looking for insight you could often find someone who was fluent in whatever you were trying to do. In times of need, this could be quite helpful. The faster Internet connection was nothing to mention, that was just a given. Ian’s eyes scanned over the groups of people conversing or standing in line. It was easy to overlook someone he might have known, and he was looking for some sort of a familiar face. The line seemed to be taking an awful long time, but that was no surprise. The college students often worked there and none of them were hesitant when it came to flirting with the customers. But hey, it beat Match.com right? If you came to Beetles, you had to be prepared for a little wait. This joint was not the place to go if you were on the run, or anything of the sort. Stick to drive thru shit if you wanted speed. He hadn’t had anything else planned for the day other than finishing off that paper. So, not like the timing really mattered all too much.
When it came down to it, Ian probably went to the place for a little social interaction and to get out of the dorm. Sadly said, but true. Eventually he’d made his way to the halfway up the line mark—and he stood up on tip toe to see who exactly was holding this Popsicle joint up. He didn't normally mind all that much, but his already nonexistent muse was wearing off with each passing second. Whomever had been up there had finally paid their dues, and he managed to get up to the front of the line. Just another black coffee, and another wasted two dollars like noted before. Ah, the trials and tribulations of finishing an article. "This is nonsense." Couldn't have worded it better myself. Ian slowly headed on back to his little table and his precious little laptop. He plopped the coffee back on the table and his butt back on the chair. What a routine. He slid the glasses back on the rim of his nose, and proceeded to furrow those eyebrows once more.
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Post by emsie on Feb 28, 2009 12:36:56 GMT 10
The normally quiet café was packed. The groups of friends and some college students were distracting and entertaining all at once with chit-chat about lives, classes, work, news, whatever they felt like talking about. It was very informative if one chose to listen and observe them. Couples sitting close, touching hands, arms, thighs, whatever was appropriate. Friends sat and laughed at the girl who was as bright a red as an apple, or so Sarah thought. It was a sweet moment and she easily would have gone and introduced herself had it not been for this story she had to write.
“Damn it.” She muttered, bringing hr eyes to the notebook lying in front of her, covered with an outline and other random notes to the side. She would have to admit that it most likely wouldn’t be her best story, but it would have to do until she could refine it more. As of right now, though, the pages of notes were a bit difficult to read. Some spots were smudged almost beyond recognition, some were written so it almost looked like she had just decided to scribble, but she could just translate the lines to English.
The plot was simplistic and a bit dark in nature but she was just in the mood to write something a bit darker than her norm. Plus, it would show her ability to spread out into different moods in her writing and she could prove that she didn’t always have that happy ending to her stories. The professor who had assigned her last short story had accused her of being able to only write childish books where everything was right and happy. Though her temper had flared she quieted the anger and just bent her head as he insulted her on paper, the written notes and critique.
After her last class, she had decided to start her new assignment and prove him wrong. But, as she sat in her empty dorm room, she fidgeted and couldn’t stay in the quiet anymore. So, the writing major took refuge in the calming and easy-going atmosphere of the campus café, Beetles. She loved it there, honestly. The warmth of the air and scents of cologne and good food settled her mind and made her feel at home. She could work there and eat without a strange look directed at her and with some friendly ‘hello’s.
Her attitude when writing was serious, focusing all her attention to writing out her ideas in a clearly organized manner. Outlined carefully in the way she had made up when she was a sophomore in high school. She was meticulous, breaking the parts down and writing as specific details as possible. Plot, scenery, characters, chapters…everything was broken into detailed lists. But she was tired of working on it.
She absently thought it a good thing she always cleaned up her notes before turning anything in. Her professor would have been appalled at the mess she made in planning. But, she was losing her ability to concentrate now, looking up and around, sighing as she got in line for her next cup of the all-addicting coffee. It was what she was living on recently, and it woke her up quickly. “Maybe I could actually get to working on the clean up process,” she spoke to herself before she ordered, paid, smiled at the cashier, and went back to her seat. Careful not to spill anything on her hands as she set the mug down, slipped into her chair and stretched, looking about the café once more.
She noticed the man towards the back with a bit of a laugh, he’d been there almost as long as herself and she could only shake her head in amusement, the reflection of his glasses spoke of more white than black on his laptop. It was…interesting and rather sad, if you asked her. “Poor guy.” She bit her tongue for a moment, she was curious and, though she knew the age-old saying, she couldn’t help it as she finally picked her cup of coffee up and notebook to join the man. “Hi, I’m Sarah. You seem to be trying to work or draw attention to yourself…” She glanced at his cup of coffee, “What cup of coffee are you on?” She smiled, amused, it seemed they both weren’t quite capable of working, so why not just distract themselves? Making new friends was always nice.
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Post by kurt on Mar 1, 2009 4:14:36 GMT 10
After a moment or so he was able to draw out another paragraph on the ever so cliché’ subject of famine in foreign countries. You’d think that people would eventually loose interest in the subject, but it seemed more and more people suddenly felt like they needed to be saving the word. That was a good thing in general but it was really taking a toll on his writing career. You could only rephrase so many words in the same story to sound different so many times. His fingers slipped across the keys with familiarity, stopping when he realized a rather smug little brunette was joining him. He stopped typing, pausing to look at the progress now a little more apparent. It was sad, he knew. What sort of senior got distracted so easily? Perhaps music was calling for him tonight? Double majoring came in handy a lot nowadays; when he tired of that one subject he could just skip over to the other for a few hours and return when refreshed. He didn’t see why there weren’t too many people doing the same lately. He raised his eyes to look at her once more, a small smirk playing out across his otherwise unmoving features. He liked the way she had approached, confident. The sentences she’d let go in a moment would only amuse him more. ”Ian, pleased to meet you.” He nodded slowly, glancing over to the table from which she came. It looked like she had journeyed to Beetles to work herself. At least he wasn’t alone in that aspect. The atmosphere could be nice, after all.
He grinned now at her other assumption, shrugging his shoulders. He couldn’t deny either of the two. ”Maybe a little bit of both. And what about yourself? You seemed to be writing rather furiously a moment or so ago.” He titled his head to the side, awaiting a reply. He had indeed seen her a moment ago with her pencil jotting things down and pulling out much more progress than he had; but she hadn’t seemed all too pleased with it. Which reminded him of his current dysfunction and the drab looking work he’d laid out in that little laptop computer. He saved the file and proceeded to close the top of the contraption. He needed a break from writing for a second, and maybe talking with her would spark up a few ideas. She could have a few opinions on the matter herself. ”Well, I think four or so.” He chuckled, looking a little sheepish to the admittance of the fact. ”It looks like you’re catching up, though.” He popped an eyebrow, remembering seeing the petite little female in line herself. Several times. He was expecting a crash from all that caffeine a little later on, so might as well talk to her while it lasted.
Ian sifted through his head, trying to remember if he had her in any of her classes. He couldn’t, and she looked like she was a bit younger than himself. He had seen her around campus, he knew that, but he couldn’t place her in a grade. (Obviously, Beetles was on campus after all.) Besides, it wasn’t like she couldn’t be majoring in something completely different, too. ”Well, I can’t seem to place you in any of my classes. What are you majoring in, miss Sarah?” He left his glasses on, forgetting their presence entirely. It was an easy thing to do when you were busy thinking about trying to finish that project, and juggling conversation with the young woman across from him. Oh well. Talking to someone was much more enticing at the moment.
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Post by emsie on Mar 2, 2009 4:51:36 GMT 10
“Nice to meet you, too, Ian.”
She smiled and nodded a bit at his description of her working, “Yeah, I tend to write a lot and furiously.” She laughed a bit, watching him close his laptop as she suspected he would, it wasn’t looking like he was getting much done anyway. She propped an elbow on the table, letting her chin rest on her hand lightly as he spoke further, answering her questions one by one. She had been surprised he had actually noticed her, but not overly much smudged with gray as she was and her hair falling out of her bun as she had pulled at it as she thought.
At the mentioning of her own coffee intake number she grinned, “Oh, no, I always keep myself to two cups, I try not to over do it.” With a bit of a nod she began to explain, “If I take in anymore of these huge cups, I can’t sleep for a really long time.” Her other hand had taken to turning the mug a little back and forth, another distraction. The freshman continued the small movement for a few moments before finally letting her hand rest on the table. The caffeine must have been getting to her, she was turning rather fidgety and she wasn’t normally like that.
After a small glance to her coffee, watching it swirl, she looked back up. He had looked a little out of it, must be thinking about something. She shrugged at her thought, she wasn’t the most familiar person just yet. She tended to go from group to group as of recently, she liked to befriend anyone and everyone she could. But she laughed at his question, “What does it look like I’m majoring in?” She was teasing him, “But I’m a writing major.” A little nod to her head emphasized the statement as she lifted her head off her hand and showed him her hand, the gray spots on the fingertips and the edge of her hand spoke of her right-handed writing and lots of it. “Working on a short story for my Creative class. Doesn’t look like it will be my best writing, though…” Her thought trailed into a small frown for a moment, “Trying to prove things can be difficult, you know.” Then she flashed another smile. “I don’t think I would be in your classes. I’m eighteen, a freshman, this year.”
After a small pause to let him either reply or laugh, she moved on. “And yourself? Writing here doesn’t seem to be a forte at the moment.” It was easier to poke fun at the man in front of her than work. “Your glasses were saying that you are drawing a lot of blanks. They’re nice, by the way, I don’t need them just yet. And I think I’d be more of a contacts person, anyway.” Was she rambling? Probably. Oh well, she’d apologize in a minute, right now her head was starting to ache from her bun.
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