This Music Is Cool As Fuck

It's comfortable. Yeah, real comfortable. There are so many people here at this hour, which is approximately 6:30pm, and I'm okay with it. At least I'm the one doing most of the starring.

My coffee is almost gone and the side order of water is warm. I haven't even begun writing. Looks like I'm in for a shit night. Could be worse, though. I could be back at my apartment hanging out with my horrifying, soon to be EX- Landloard. God damn, is she something strange to look at.

I originally came to this coffee shop in hopes of finishing my resume and apply for Administrative Assistant jobs. Very professional, I know. When I go in for my interview, I'm going to wear a tight blue dress to "wow" my soon to be 45 year old boss. He's going to fucking love it. I won't mind it so much either, I never really get to dress up much due to this dog walking gig I've got "going for myself".

I've already gotten sidetracked. That's how interested I am in writing, currently. I am willing to check my e-mail, download a Mediafire link that will ultimately fail me, and check show times for what movies are playing at that shitty AMC on Western. Let's get back into it, shall we?

So, most important matter at hand is that I'm moving, officially, THIS Sunday and never looking back. This 3rd floor apartment is literally two blocks away, south on California... I really stepped out of my comfort zone with this move. BIG changes everybody. Except I'm not being sarcastic. Living with two female peers instead of roommates who may as well be dead? It's going to be a turning point in my life. I'm not hinting that I'm going to turn into some sick lesbian or something, no, I could just really use more girls as friends. At times I wonder if I have any real girlfriends. A couple, but in terms of logic, I should never associate with those of the female kind...their brains are weird 50% of the time. This is what I tell myself during hours of reflection I periodically have. I'd like to be a feminist someday.

Back to where I started, though. I come to my neighborhood coffee shop because it actually convinces my conscious that I have a spot in this neighborhood that I've lived in for what seems forever...or at least any part of my time here in Chicago that has been worthwhile. Or MAYBE I'm just coming here this week to relax and use the wi-fi? That's probably what it is. I can't believe I would place such sentiment in something so stupid at the feeling of nostalgia. I'm being productive as hell, I'll tell you that much. Doesn't matter two shits which one of these reasons sparked my writing interest. I've never been consistent, and I don't plan on being now. I'll write when I want to write and I'll tell you what ever excuse I feel because in the end I just want to amuse myself. Thanks for reading, you lovely waste of time.