Transitions
Sitting in Cafés, Panels and – soon – Class.
Hello again! Classes start in a few days, so I deemed it worthwhile to write something before the imminent wash of assignments and reunions.
Today, I am writing from an underground, warmly-lit cafe close to campus. Its ceiling hangs exposed: light brown planks of wood cross and clasp older, burnt planks; remnants of insulation foam remain visible at the corners. It is below freezing outside yet this cafe manages to keep its tenants warm. We each maintain a cup of once steaming tea or coffee. Some benefit from the warmth of their loved one, date, or whirring laptops. I tap away at my own keyboard, joining the symphony of clicks infiltrating the harsh, ambient jazz projected from the single speaker in our section of the cafe.
The most difficult part about coming to a cafe alone with the intention to sit-in is deciding where to set base.
Do I settle close to the entrance and risk the gust of chilling winds whenever a visitor scampers in?
What about the seats close to the counter – will I resist the urge to listen to and type every order made?
Do I dare go inside, to the corner, where people on first, second, or third dates selectively tease broadcast their passions?
Where’s the closest charging port?
Is my back well enough to manage a backless, elevated set-up or do I play safe and sink into the simple, foamed arrangements?
How close am I to the speaker? Will I wear my headphones, pretend to be too chic to listen to the same music as everyone else, and forfeit any serendipitous meet – connecting with a fellow shelterer?
When I finally decide on a section, seat-type, and choice of music, do I turn my back to the door and spare myself from offering an encouraging smile while others peep in to evaluate their own options? Or do I square up to the exit and dub myself the section ambassador?
Finally, I am sat.
I was also sat in a panel, a few days ago, as part of some entrepreneurship program. For one of their final questions, the moderator asked, “What next? What next with your business?”
This question got processed in my head as “What next in life?” And my response went something like this:
“Honestly, I do not know.”
“But I would like to hit to the next transition/pivot soon.”
“So the target, really, is to speed-run what I am currently working on and fail or get stuck.”
“And if not, then beautiful, it means I must be doing at least one thing right.” *chuckle*
“Also, some weeks ago, a friend teased that I’m a better writer than I’m an engineer, so I am taking my engineering pursuits extra seriously this semester.” *scattered chuckles from the audience*
It really bothers me that I don’t have a record of my exact responses from that panel. The pressure from having to spontaneously share my thoughts tends to unravel motivations, cracks, and hopes I bear. Writing also affords this. Speaking to loved ones too. Yet, the situational nakedness the panel, and social gatherings like it, provide seems particularly useful to my own processes.
One goal for the rest of the month is to figure out how to regularly situate myself in such spaces. Maybe take it a step further and host an in-house MothStorySlam?
What else?
I published my first essay in ~three months on BallerzBantz. It also explained one reason I haven’t watched any football in as many months.
I spent at least an hour reading this story and lawsuit about a former KU professor who’s suing the university after he was accused, tried, and, after five years in court, acquitted of being a spy for China.
I’ve been reading How to Tell a Story by the Moth and Becoming by Michelle Obama. I haven’t finished the former because I get interrupted by a memory or ideas every few pages. Michelle’s is a similar case, but the thrill of a plot is sufficient to subdue my itch.
Loved the transitioning in this one.
Beautifully Written.