Hippocrene Café
I was sitting on the hill, watching the bustle of life around me in the sunset, when he came and sat next to me. There were a few moments of silence. Perhaps he was enjoying the evening, though I prefer to think he was waiting for the best moment to pounce. It wasn't long before he did.
"So, what's the drama today?" he asked.
I sighed, "You always have to be so negative."
"I'm only as bad as my material," he responded.
I grimaced, "Why do you even want to know, then? You can always leave if I'm such a buzzkill."
"You know I can't do that. Now spill."
"Well...," I started, "it's about writing. I keep on coming back to it in my mind, and I'm always wracked with guilt that I haven't made any great effort to start."
"So why don't you just start? If you have this much time to waste, you might as well get on with it."
"Well, I would if I had any good ideas to write about," I said with what I guess was a pout.
"Perfectionist’s Dilemma," he said flatly.
"Oh,” I said. I tried to think, “Uh… I’m afraid of writing something disappointing and becoming disillusioned.”
"Coward’s Escape," he immediately provided.
"Well, there’s always the problem of my poor discipline.”
“Self-fulfilling Prophecy and Worrier’s Hideaway,” he replied, raising a finger for each one.
“Hmm. I think I’m out,” I said.
"Good, now we can move on," he said. Then he turned to me, and I was caught by the intensity in his eyes. “Are you ready to face this like a man?”
“Like a man?” I asked.
“Yes, without excuses, facing your fears. You’ve always felt this was your destiny, your calling. So do it. You wanted an adventure, and here it is. Are you going to hide behind those tired excuses or are you ready to live?”
I’m not sure what it was. The fire laden on each word he spoke, maybe, or the way he leaned in close as if telling me some great mystery. Whatever it was, I felt the heat rising in my blood. My fists clenched. I stood up and shouted, “Yes! I’m ready! I will break the chains I tied around myself! I will march down the road of destiny! I-“
“Will?”
A concerned voice spoke to me from beside the table upon which I had one fist planted and one raised triumphantly into the air. I looked around at the startled and amused faces of the other coffee shop patrons, and slowly took my seat while hoping that my cheeks would stop burning soon.
My friend placed her bag on the table and took a seat across from me. “I agree to meet you here, and this is what I find,” she said, shaking her head. Then, she looked at me and smiled. “You’d think I’d be used to you talking to yourself by now.” Everyone was returning to their business, and she began thinking about what she wanted to order.
“Honestly,” she said absent-mindedly, “if you have this much time to waste, you might as well get on with something useful, like that writing you always talk about.”
Despite myself, and the stares that followed, I laughed.
Twilight out
"So, what's the drama today?" he asked.
I sighed, "You always have to be so negative."
"I'm only as bad as my material," he responded.
I grimaced, "Why do you even want to know, then? You can always leave if I'm such a buzzkill."
"You know I can't do that. Now spill."
"Well...," I started, "it's about writing. I keep on coming back to it in my mind, and I'm always wracked with guilt that I haven't made any great effort to start."
"So why don't you just start? If you have this much time to waste, you might as well get on with it."
"Well, I would if I had any good ideas to write about," I said with what I guess was a pout.
"Perfectionist’s Dilemma," he said flatly.
"Oh,” I said. I tried to think, “Uh… I’m afraid of writing something disappointing and becoming disillusioned.”
"Coward’s Escape," he immediately provided.
"Well, there’s always the problem of my poor discipline.”
“Self-fulfilling Prophecy and Worrier’s Hideaway,” he replied, raising a finger for each one.
“Hmm. I think I’m out,” I said.
"Good, now we can move on," he said. Then he turned to me, and I was caught by the intensity in his eyes. “Are you ready to face this like a man?”
“Like a man?” I asked.
“Yes, without excuses, facing your fears. You’ve always felt this was your destiny, your calling. So do it. You wanted an adventure, and here it is. Are you going to hide behind those tired excuses or are you ready to live?”
I’m not sure what it was. The fire laden on each word he spoke, maybe, or the way he leaned in close as if telling me some great mystery. Whatever it was, I felt the heat rising in my blood. My fists clenched. I stood up and shouted, “Yes! I’m ready! I will break the chains I tied around myself! I will march down the road of destiny! I-“
“Will?”
A concerned voice spoke to me from beside the table upon which I had one fist planted and one raised triumphantly into the air. I looked around at the startled and amused faces of the other coffee shop patrons, and slowly took my seat while hoping that my cheeks would stop burning soon.
My friend placed her bag on the table and took a seat across from me. “I agree to meet you here, and this is what I find,” she said, shaking her head. Then, she looked at me and smiled. “You’d think I’d be used to you talking to yourself by now.” Everyone was returning to their business, and she began thinking about what she wanted to order.
“Honestly,” she said absent-mindedly, “if you have this much time to waste, you might as well get on with something useful, like that writing you always talk about.”
Despite myself, and the stares that followed, I laughed.
Twilight out
posted by Aisyrn | 2:09 PM
1 Comments:
YeeHee! Multiple Personality Disorder and public displays of insanity!
Well, to put it bluntly, I think the scenery needs changing too. I mean, let's talk about me for a moment.
I used to try to write all kinds of stuff in middle and high school, but it wasn't very good until I got old enough to meet interesting people and drive around and see new things.
What I'm trying to say is, it's hard to write a ground-breakingly beautiful consumate work of art from Denmark, man. Unless it's about dirt. Or maybe a Subway. Or a dirty Subway.
-Arnold
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