Quilted

Blue gauze falls blanket to the tops of the Flatirons. From the coffee shop window, one can see the white left where cold was worse, where the sun was unsympathetic. The color of the air is gray, and the people, mostly coupled, are in quilted downs, walking around looking pained with their arms crossed. I'm buried in the fairytales of Oscar Wilde, sort of, but distracted in the child with a knit cap the style of a cupcake being zipped up by her mother outside, in the cold. I'm finding it quite difficult to write a story, and until it just burns me to beginning, I will write about the life I'm living. 

I'm in Ozo coffee, after passionately sidestepping the Laughing Goat for my reasons. Unfortunately, this place may just be the same. The guy behind the cash register didn't speak as if he wanted to hear, and the chai was $5. I think I'm done complaining now, because when will it ever change? Is their a cafe you love, where they treat you well, and coffee hasn't become a snobbery of travel cacao elixir bull-wording? Please tell me about it. 

I think that I'm really good about being alone, I like to claim it, I believe I know when I need it, but maybe that ability has passed, and I'm on to (and probably trying to fight it), a new need. If I get lost in my thoughts on the long walk to this shop, or when I'm driving all over town for all of my things I have to do, I think about my friends, where they are, and what I want from them. I hope they do know how closely I carry them, that I want to be living next to them in Arizona, Oregon, Seattle, Spokane, & Bellingham. I hope they know that I'm the kind of person who, if asked, or if collaborated with, would take time off from 3 jobs, and spend my little money just to be near them, just to meet them in some new city, or in Vegas, or for destination races. That I think about them so much so that I won't quit a job that makes me unhappy, just to be sure that I will have earned enough money to throw the most fantastic of Bachelorette parties a half year from now. It's ironic seeing how I hate to be on the phone, which people take as uncaring, but put snail mail in my hand, an email, or a text, and I'm more reliable. 

I feel like we're all headed in our own directions and it's really easy for people to be self-involved, and I don't want so much of this in my life. I want to gossip, and drink, and dress up, and not feel let down, and plan adventures, and hear about everything that may affect anything. 

I'd gladly pay $5 for a cup of a-hole tea, just to have a reason to sit in a shop, writing a letter to a good friend. I guess, what's stopping me - nothing. I guess, though, honestly, I don't like the lack of an equal excitement on the other end.