I'm sitting at a Second Cup. I really want to go to Ikea.
On a different note, I am wholeheartedly regretting my last post. I think you can tell I'm not necessarily the most creative (or interesting) person. I'm no storyteller.
So today, I'll try a bit of observation. I'm sitting facing a window.
It's not facing the busy side of the street, but rather, one of those bleak roads that make a perpendicular cross against the big, busy street. There are lots of things - a pizza store in the corner, giant buildings, a fire hydrant. So maybe there aren't that many things. But it's not vacant. It just feels very vacant. Maybe it's the lack of traffic in comparison to the main road. Maybe it's the faceless gray drab of an exterior that's right in front of me. It's an apartment building with a four-story parking lot. The neon colors of the pizza place next door really doesn't help liven things up. Instead, it blends (neon colors usually shouldn't mix so well with gray). It triggers no spark in my eye.
The sky isn't heavy, but rather a vacant hole. It's not even gray like the parking lot. It's white. If you look closely enough it's probably one of those really really light shades of gray (I mean, there's fifty shades of gray out there, if not more). But at the moment I'm too lethargic to pull out a color swatch and determine its precise color code. Or whatever that thing is that people use to find the perfect paint. It's probably used a lot in hospital bathrooms.
And now, there's a milk-grey truck right in my face. The color of soft steel. Oh well, it probably has a hint of green in it. It's still gray to me.
The drink I ordered sloshes in my mouth and down my throat. It leaves a clenching feeling in my throat muscles, protesting against the sugar. It's a white chocolate latte, I think. North America and their flavored lattes. It fascinates me. Especially the winter kind.
A few more cars, a bright yellow school bus, and still the van hasn't moved. (truck? van? I can't tell them apart)
It's an odd time of the day, where normal people are still working or at school.
A dude lit a cigarette as he walked by. I don't know why he stood out, I guess it reminded me of... I think of my many friends who smoke (most I've lost touch with, only a few I still talk to). Not necessarily any one of them in particular.
My parents used to smoke. They quit when I was born.
I change the song on my ipod to some 80s Jpop. Eiichi Ohtaki is fan-frickin-tastic (check out his album, A Long Vacation - it's been my jam for a while). Despite the song being very summery and cheerful, soft and warm in my ears with the residue of cultural currency, it's still monotonous and drab outside.
Hah, funny. The lyrics just right now was "memories are monochrome" (from Kimi ha Tennenshoku).
But on second thought, I think it's slightly lighter outside. Just a hint. There's that slight strain in the back of the eyeballs, on the underside of the sphere, that pulls at a nerve in frustration. Yes, defintely. Just a hint lighter.
And it suddenly dawns on me that this is very fun. To put abstract thought into words. Unbroken Arrow: Sentou Yousei Yukikaze waxed poetic (in the most efficient, objective voice, of course) about how language is another filter, that true thought is somewhere beyond words. Words are putting those thoughts into coherent clusters, a code, that other people can interpret. I'm totally paraphrasing, but the van in front of me has not moved an inch.
I think the driver left. Oh, wait. Driver's back.
And finally, the van moved. I think I'm done for now.
Or is it a truck?