It’s week 3 in my lovely English 100 class and this week I was assigned to depict a scene in my life through text and to describe my surroundings at that point in time. In this post, you’ll read a detailed, little moment from my life taken out of my memory, I thought was worth sharing with you. If you want to learn more about writing scenes and what exactly I mean by a scene, check out these readings: What Is Creative Nonfiction? By Lee Gutkind & Making Scenes In Memoir by Lee Martin Calm, serene music is flooding my headphones currently. No specific artists you heard of, but a collection of rhythms, bass dipping in and out, blurred out piano and soft drums mixed together, flowing harmoniously made by beat producers just for the fun of it. It’s my favorite playlist for concentration, called Chill Study Beats on Spotify. I put this on because I find blasting A$AP Mob in this Starbucks right now with frappuccino machines whirring, ice gliding into Venti cups, and cheerful employees shouting names like Marcy for a large caramel macchiato is a little distracting while I work on my assignments- and for my overactive brain. Let me take you to before I got to this Starbucks. I’m laying in my dull yet warm sheets craving something to do, something to feel productive. The light flooded in the room in hues of blue and purple through the sheer curtains that hang from the window and even the lighting of the room felt lazy- like the sun was bored too and wanted to break from the clouds and do something. I thought about how my professor had suggested to do something new for our scene assignment and to write about it. So I did exactly that. My feet hit the cold, vacant floor in a hurry, I put on one of my boyfriend’s coziest hoodies available and thought it also might be time to break out the Ugg slippers considering on this Thursday afternoon it was still a little humid, like the remnants of summer were hanging on by a thread, but the fall breeze has moved in for the season. I won’t admit that I was sweating by the time I walked down my street and got into my stubby, little cobalt blue truck though. I make my way down the streets, window open, cool wind running it’s hands through my hair, playing my favorite Neighbourhood album, my FM transmitter in my 2002 GMC not being the best providing scratching and tattering sounds overtop the music I gave it. I’m going a little slower than usual, taking my time on the road whereas everyday I usually find myself in a hurry, but today was my day off, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. The little amount of sun showing was reflecting, red and bold against the long and smooth yet ever so bumpy road that is Baltimore Pike, my favorite pike of all pikes- West Chester Pike a close second. Dinner time was approaching fast, making the sun hitting the road start to set, the sky losing its brightness and the atmosphere losing it’s sticky moisture to bring in a chilly night- like I’m about to lose my money on probably my 13th ice coffee this week. I pull into the tight and busy Starbucks parking lot to fulfill my goal of trying something new. “How do you try something new at a Starbucks you’ve been to a thousand times if it’s not a different drink from your usual?” You may ask. Today I was going to sit here and do my work, something I’ve never done. It’s easy for me to get distracted doing my work at home, probably unlike any human on Earth, and I was craving a crisp ice coffee, so my opportunity was present as ever. I walk into the tidy building to a sea of people, some eager for their lattes standing belly against the counter, some patient and seated. A jumble of employees buzzing behind the counter, with the smells of fresh varieties and flavors of coffees stealing the air. The temperature was comfortable, the worry that I would have to take my hoodie off disappeared as I set my things down. I shuffle my way to the register to be greeted welcomingly by a tall, bearded man who was sporting a bun and thick framed glasses, like any stereotypical Starbucks employee that might come to a person’s mind. He greeted me as if I was coming into his home for his mom to cook everyone there a beautiful, hearty dinner, I admire it when an employee of any establishment makes a customer feel that way. I tell him my order, it’s very much like Marcy’s- it’s exactly the same. The rest was a blur, everythings’ usually a blur when I take out my debit card to spend money, until I’m shaken out of my mind frame by an abrupt and quick, “Taylor!” for me to retrieve my big, frigid and bitter beverage. I settle into a dimly lit corner, a deep mahogany table and chair at my disposal and I push open my laptop. Before my dive into the web, I take a second to recite the tasks I need to work on in my head, looking out the window only to be greeted by a big, washed out, brick fixture outside and a sliver of a view of leaves from a small tree, glowing a brassy orange from the outdoor building lights. Now here I am, chrome bringing me to docs, typing this. This was my new experience. I can officially claim myself as the breed of exhausted college student who types and types the hours away in front of shelves chock-full of autumn themed gift cards and plastic cups littered with generic pumpkins and leaves available for purchase. Cups with vague sayings like “Don’t speak to me until I’ve had my coffee” that hold alot of truth despite the corniness. I always kind’ve wanted to be that student the more I explored Starbucks’ in high school. Now I am, and it feels new and accomplishing.
1 Comment
Qaadir.M
9/24/2018 07:54:21 pm
"I shoulda looked up at the sky at first, now I can see it in this post, fireworks"
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AuthorHi! I'm Taylor Kriebel, a current student at Delaware County Community College. You're currently reading my blog assignments from my English Composition I class. Enjoy! Archives
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