They say patience builds character.
Well waiting for you makes my character mad.
So I guess I’m building up to be crazy.
– Pieces of poetry, by cdukulele.
Funny story. I did something by myself today. See, I don’t have a car, but I got sick of being stuck at home, a home I dearly love and am fortunate to have, but a place I grew sick of nonetheless, and so I went with my sister to pick up her prescription.
Thursday nights I usually go to an open mic night and play music. This week my cousin was busy, and I had a cold anyway, so I wasn’t prepared to sing, and had no transportation, so that’s why I went to the hospital instead. So my sister and I chatted, as we drove along the road, and we chatted in the pharmacy, and then we chatted in the car again, and then I was feeling better and was like “WANNA GO TO OPEN MIC NIGHT!??” and she was all “no.” So then I was despairing, but I got her to agree to drop me off there and then I called my brother and asked if he could come pick me up an hour and a half later, to which he agreed.
I borrowed a notebook and pen from my sister, and proudly walked into the coffee shop by myself and ordered a latte. Then I kept my chin up and my eyes focused forward as a guy with a guitar started walking directly toward me. Then suddenly he said “Hey, what’s up? Catherine, right?” and I turned and glanced at him and tried to beam a smile and was all “Yes, hello!” and then he said “Are you playing tonight?” to which I frowned and said “No, I, uh, didn’t bring my ukulele” then he said something positive and waved goodbye as he continued out of the coffee shop. It was five minutes into Catherine being completely independent, and already somebody remembered her and her music! I’m talking in third person…The point is, it was really exciting, but it gets better.
See, then I got my coffee and walked outside to where people were playing music and stuff, and I was about to sit in the hard uncomfortable chairs that I normally sit in, whenever I go to the coffee shop open mic night, and then I saw the couch. I have never sat in the couch before, the dark brown leather one, that sits on the patio and is partially protected from the cold night breezes. I’ve seen people sitting there, little groups of friends, bundled together all cozy in the warmth of friendship and happiness, but I have never been courageous enough to try it out. SO I DID. I walked over to that chocolate brown couch, and I sat myself down, right next to a little end table, and I even put my feet up on the old trunk serving as a table that sat in front of it. So there I sat, the paragon of happiness, coffee on the end table next to me, feet on a trunk, and notebook and pen in my hands, ready to scribble down whatever delightful thoughts came into my head as I listened to the artistic creations spouting out of the speakers to my left.
Then it happened. A couple came and sat next to me on the couch. What do you do when a couple sits next to you on a couch? I was perfectly willing to share my happiness with them, let them enjoy the comfort of the couch, but I didn’t know if I was supposed to like, leave or say “hi”, or just sit there and pretend they didn’t exist? So I sat there and pretended that they didn’t exist. It was awkward.
THEN SOMETHING ELSE AMAZING HAPPENED! The guy that said hi to me sat in a little uncomfortable table with like a billion of his friends (five) right in front of me. It was exciting. I had someone to stare at. But that grew boring, because I realized that he probably wasn’t going to talk to me right that moment, and I was still sitting on a couch alone with the two lovebirds.
THEN SOMETHING EVEN BETTER HAPPENED TO ME! A fellow musician that I met last week, and had glimpsed wandering around the edge of the outside of the coffee shop when I was just arriving, appeared! AND HE ACKNOWLEDGED MY EXISTENCE AND THEN CAME OVER AND SAT IN THE EMPTY SEAT NEXT TO ME. We talked. It was lovely. Apparently I had just missed his song. I was sad. He commented on my music from last week. It made me happy. We became friends. Then my brother showed up thirty minutes early, and wandered over and said he was there and ready whenever I was to go. My mom made him leave thirty minutes early…before I called home to ask him to come. So I politely asked him if he could wait ten minutes, and he obliged me.
Then my new friend was all “Oh, was that your boyfriend?….. or father? Or,” “My brother,” I stated, “Uncle…or cousin, or” he continued, “That was my brother.” I emphatically repeated again. “Oh” my new friend responded. It was greeeeeaaaat. Then we kind of sat there for a bit, and the last song ended, and he stood up immediately and started talking to the musician who had said hi to me earlier and his little clump of friends….and I just thought of how much I wished I had my own car and how I wished my brother had not come thirty minutes early. But then I threw away my coffee cup, and kind of awkwardly stood by my brother, and my new friend came over and actually chatted with me a bit and awkwardly met my brother, and then asked if I was coming back to the coffee shop anytime soon, and I said yes. Then we parted after him urging me to try to jam with him and me explaining my lack of ukulele.
Now I have to wait an indeterminate amount of time before seeing another person my age who plays music and likes talking to me at coffee shops again. So I wrote out every detail of my night to make me feel better. There it is. Now your life doesn’t seem half as boring, does it?