Oh, Hermit Me
Yep, guilty as charged, I'm a hermit.
I hadn't intended it to turn out that way.
But life has a way of moving in waves.
One wave was Oh, Corporate Me.
This wave is Oh, Hermit Me.
Now that I'm not a 9 to 5'er, I realize that I enjoy sitting at my desk telling my stories, staring out at the ocean, Swiffering my floors, playing with my cat Penny and my daughter's Chihuahua, Victor Jose Snaggles.
Only problem?
Well, I'm a hermit.
Hermit's don't get out much, they tend to grow roots so deep they can barely move.
A couple of weeks ago the most wonderful thing happened.
I inherited Surfer Boy's old laptop.
"Now," thought I, "I'll be one of those writer's who sits at Starbucks with a container of coffee--a tall soy latte to be exact--and focuses on her work."
Today, I got in my car, drove to the next city over and sat in the town's Barnes and Noble. They also happen to have a Starbucks on premises and plenty of tables and chairs for studious folk like me.
It was great!
My consciousness became laser-beam-focused on my story. I could feel my eyes and brain trained on my work.
Then, because I haven't done this in years, I went to Taco Bell for lunch. Taco Bell holds a special place in my heart because it got me through many lean years.
I looked at the overhead menu and thought, "Where did all these weird Nacho-rito, and Dorito-fire--or whatever the hell this newfangled stuff is called--come from?"
A waif of a girl wearing too much blue eye shadow took my order. "I'll have two bean and cheese burritos with green sauce."
"Would you like onions with that?"
"Sure, why not?"
You may be wondering why I'm telling you about my lunch because that's got to be the most boring thing anyone would ever write about.
It's because after I finished lunch, I opened my laptop, got back to work, and became absolutely entranced by the laughter and fun the Latina girls who worked the Taco Bell food line enjoyed.
As they filled orders for the long line of cars in the drive-through, their laughter filled the (mostly empty) restaurant.
It got me thinking about the fact that we're all in such a hurry. Take me through the drive-through so I can wolf my food down at a red light while yelling at the driver in front of me!
So I appeal to you ...
Slow down.
Walk into the Taco Bell. Sit at a table. Work on a story while you're there. Or don't work on a story. Read a book. Or paint a picture. Or sing a song.
But make sure you absorb the Latina girls laughter.
It's magic.
I hadn't intended it to turn out that way.
But life has a way of moving in waves.
One wave was Oh, Corporate Me.
This wave is Oh, Hermit Me.
Now that I'm not a 9 to 5'er, I realize that I enjoy sitting at my desk telling my stories, staring out at the ocean, Swiffering my floors, playing with my cat Penny and my daughter's Chihuahua, Victor Jose Snaggles.
Only problem?
Well, I'm a hermit.
Hermit's don't get out much, they tend to grow roots so deep they can barely move.
A couple of weeks ago the most wonderful thing happened.
I inherited Surfer Boy's old laptop.
"Now," thought I, "I'll be one of those writer's who sits at Starbucks with a container of coffee--a tall soy latte to be exact--and focuses on her work."
Today, I got in my car, drove to the next city over and sat in the town's Barnes and Noble. They also happen to have a Starbucks on premises and plenty of tables and chairs for studious folk like me.
It was great!
My consciousness became laser-beam-focused on my story. I could feel my eyes and brain trained on my work.
Then, because I haven't done this in years, I went to Taco Bell for lunch. Taco Bell holds a special place in my heart because it got me through many lean years.
I looked at the overhead menu and thought, "Where did all these weird Nacho-rito, and Dorito-fire--or whatever the hell this newfangled stuff is called--come from?"
A waif of a girl wearing too much blue eye shadow took my order. "I'll have two bean and cheese burritos with green sauce."
"Would you like onions with that?"
"Sure, why not?"
You may be wondering why I'm telling you about my lunch because that's got to be the most boring thing anyone would ever write about.
It's because after I finished lunch, I opened my laptop, got back to work, and became absolutely entranced by the laughter and fun the Latina girls who worked the Taco Bell food line enjoyed.
As they filled orders for the long line of cars in the drive-through, their laughter filled the (mostly empty) restaurant.
It got me thinking about the fact that we're all in such a hurry. Take me through the drive-through so I can wolf my food down at a red light while yelling at the driver in front of me!
So I appeal to you ...
Slow down.
Walk into the Taco Bell. Sit at a table. Work on a story while you're there. Or don't work on a story. Read a book. Or paint a picture. Or sing a song.
But make sure you absorb the Latina girls laughter.
It's magic.
Wow! Jen, you really touched me with that one. I started chuckling because I have a rather unnatural relationship with Taco Bell. When we're travelling on vacation and not wanting to spend a lot of time eating, Taco Bell is my first choice! I know what you mean about the laughter and smiles because leave me feeling happy (and sated) after my meal. I hope that everything you're working on is going well and that you and Surfer Boy are happy and healthy!
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