Neigh-bor(ed)-hood

I'm sitting at a coffee shop right now. It's something I've done often since returning home from my second year of collegiate education in a land far from here. This is one of my favorite coffee shops, as it roasts it's own plethora of beans on location, has a gorgeous outdoor patio with electrical outlets (where I currently sit), and has some of the prettiest and most conversational baristas around. (Firefox doesn't recognize the word barista. As I'm fairly sure I'm spelling it correctly, this saddens me. I thought the coffee shop culture had taken over enough to input words into our vocabulary. I guess I was wrong. Luckily there's that "Add to Dictionary" option. Take that Firefox.)

This coffee shop is about three blocks from the high school I graduated from just two years ago. Current students are walking by and some are stopping in for a drink. I can label them as patrons of my alma mater not because I recognize them, but because they are wearing the required garb of that particular institution. I am instantly reminded of a quote from Chasing Amy. "As it stands I have no '...and then she unzipped her jumper' stories." I realize that, though I did have a couple girlfriends in high school, this is true for me as well. I feel like I missed out on something that could have been truly great. Suppose we could all say that about a lot of things in our lives, couldn't we?

About twenty minutes ago this patio was jammed with people sitting at the various tables but communally conversing, as though this was a normal practice. I don't doubt that it was just that. I spotted in the crowd the owner of this particular espresso emporium. This is the first real place I ever played music in front of people, back in the days of the old folk trio Studio C. He came and talked to us after the show and invited us to come back and play whenever we liked. We never did. Every once and a while I throw on our CD and feel like, had we worked at it (also, had we not been seniors in high school, soon to disperse unto various colleges in various parts of the midwest), we could have made some serious quality music. Maybe these are delusions of grandeur mixed with nostalgia, but I say we were pretty badass. Anyway, I don't think he recognized me

A cloud cover has come, which has eased the task of actually seeing my laptop screen drastically. It has also cooled the breeze and lowered the temperature on the surface of the keys I am tapping. I am thankful.

I am getting a small taste of what post-collegiate life will be like, and I'm not entirely excited about it. It is still the case that all of my friends (including the mysterious female I have been mentioning) are still busy with school and won't be returning until this weekend. It's been a long two weeks, and I'm looking forward to having people I can call again.

While this area may later regain it's former title, it has grown painfully obvious that this just isn't home anymore, which I know I've said before. I'm starting to occasionally feel like I'm not actually real anymore. It's not a serious thing, more a fleeting thought. The world spins and sometimes I feel like maybe I'm taking a revolution off. It happens when I catch a glimpse of someone I do recognize from back when this was, without a doubt, the only home I'd ever had. Rarely do our glances meet and I usually continue on my way without establishing any sort of reunion. This is a comfort thing. Although I can often chat with ease with almost anyone, I find it immensely difficult to attempt any sort of reconstruction of past relationships. I don't know where to find the words to say and I often feel tat there's a required apology to be made for not keeping up the contact that neither of us realistically expected.

Personally, I can't stand it when someone who I maintained minimal if any contact with during my time living here wants to grab a cup of coffee and catch up. On the surface, that may sound pompous and egotistical, but when you think about it, what would we talk about? There would be no "remember when" stories and any telling of how our post secondary education is going would be forced and generic. I've been in those situations, awkward conversations at parties and other like scenarios. I dislike it, and as such avoid them whenever possible. This could be why I am so damn alone here though.

I fear more than almost anything, that I'm growing weak. I'm less likely to make bold moves, less likely to talk to a stranger or even friend if I feel the slightest bit uneasy about it. It's not that I second guess myself more now, it's that those feelings of "maybe I shouldn't..." come earlier and my growing unease makes me succumb to those nerves. While this is surely beneficial, I don't want it to take away from the spastic, uncontrolled edge that I've always had. I'm glad that this is developing because, to be honest, I'm sick of that spastic nature allowing me to say and do things that hurt the people I love, but I don't want it to disappear completely. I used to be ballsy and arrogant. I'm fine with losing the arrogance, but I want to maintain my courage.

Living alone is a disaster for someone who over thinks situations as much as I do. I'm caught in the introverted part of myself, something I usually have to purposefully devote time to find. Now, due to the complete absence of other voices, the only one I hear is my own echoing against each nook of my mind and, like a childhood game of telephone, that original message or thought gets warped and twisted and becomes something completely different. Sometimes I can't remember which was the original and which I manufactured. At least I realize that this is happening. That helps.

I have slight qualms about ending a post on something like that, but I'm going to do it anyway.