I am at work. I am not, however, working. I am one of the only employees here that sincerely enjoys hanging out here on my day off, and I’m sure this is baffling to some of my co-workers. But the truth is that I feel comfortable here. Secure. Cozy. At home. And the discount on coffee doesn’t hurt either.
One of the other reasons I like to hang out here is that it reminds me of this brand new social life I am building after living here a year and a half. I can turn my head and concurrently see the supervisor whose girlie holiday party I’m attending tomorrow night, the bass player of my newest favorite local band, and the co-worker who is coming over for dinner when her shift ends. And best of all I am surrounded by books. Tens of thousands of books. If this isn’t my idea of an ideal place to spend a cold Thursday afternoon then I don’t know what is.
My mother doesn’t understand why I am settling into my life here. She thinks that since I don’t have an opportunity to attend a top-notch university or get a stellar writing job I shouldn’t be happy. What she doesn’t know is that finding a niche somewhere – anywhere – is what is truly making me happy at this point in my life. Someday I’m sure I’ll want to settle down somewhere a little more diverse. But right now, at this point in time, I breathe in the smell of coffee and paper and binding and let out a long, contented sigh. And smile.
Blogged with Flock