Title: Field Research Fandom/original: original Characters: n/a Rating: pg Word count: 351
I scouted the corner Starbucks not for its overpriced beverages but the local flavor, which in my not-so-humble opinion had a much more satisfying taste. The coffee house was an interesting cross-section of city life as teenagers, hipsters, squares, and working stiffs alike tended to frequent the area, and I enjoyed the endless opportunities for people watching while sipping on a slightly more affordable cup of hot tea.
Normally I brought class work with me to the coffee shop, mindlessly highlighting my human behavior and psychoanalysis textbooks over the din of conversation, cappuccino maker, and soothing strains of folk rock. The real knowledge I sought did not come from these ponderous volumes deemed essential reading by my professors, but rather in my acute observation of all the passersby. I kept a pocket notepad by my side at all times to jot notes about persons of interest, while I smiled to myself behind my paper cup.
Emo Liberal Boy (subject M19) threw me for a loop, however. All guyliner-ed and gawky with a shock of self-consciously tousled hipster cool dyed black hair, I fancied him the narcissistic type. All bleeding heart and deliberate sympathy that never quite struck the chord of empathy, he seemed very much the perpetual victim type. He came in with new girls all the time, ordering a “manlier” variation of his dates’ drinks (no frou-frou carmel or soy or extra whipped cream for him) and crafting a convincing, if overwrought, look of concern while they poured their hearts out to him. He knew what it felt like to be hurt, cheated, betrayed by lovers and politicians alike. His messenger bag was decorated with the all the buttons to prove it – Buck Fush, Go Green, Barack the Vote, All Love is Equal. His bag might as well have been his MySpace.
Then one day he came in sans makeup and skinny jeans and ordered a tall green tea, taking the seat across from me. The look in his eyes was as profound as the AIM emoticons he used so liberally. And I knew mine were signaling :/ :/ :/
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2008-10-01 09:57 am (UTC)Fandom/original: original
Characters: n/a
Rating: pg
Word count: 351
I scouted the corner Starbucks not for its overpriced beverages but the local flavor, which in my not-so-humble opinion had a much more satisfying taste. The coffee house was an interesting cross-section of city life as teenagers, hipsters, squares, and working stiffs alike tended to frequent the area, and I enjoyed the endless opportunities for people watching while sipping on a slightly more affordable cup of hot tea.
Normally I brought class work with me to the coffee shop, mindlessly highlighting my human behavior and psychoanalysis textbooks over the din of conversation, cappuccino maker, and soothing strains of folk rock. The real knowledge I sought did not come from these ponderous volumes deemed essential reading by my professors, but rather in my acute observation of all the passersby. I kept a pocket notepad by my side at all times to jot notes about persons of interest, while I smiled to myself behind my paper cup.
Emo Liberal Boy (subject M19) threw me for a loop, however. All guyliner-ed and gawky with a shock of self-consciously tousled hipster cool dyed black hair, I fancied him the narcissistic type. All bleeding heart and deliberate sympathy that never quite struck the chord of empathy, he seemed very much the perpetual victim type. He came in with new girls all the time, ordering a “manlier” variation of his dates’ drinks (no frou-frou carmel or soy or extra whipped cream for him) and crafting a convincing, if overwrought, look of concern while they poured their hearts out to him. He knew what it felt like to be hurt, cheated, betrayed by lovers and politicians alike. His messenger bag was decorated with the all the buttons to prove it – Buck Fush, Go Green, Barack the Vote, All Love is Equal. His bag might as well have been his MySpace.
Then one day he came in sans makeup and skinny jeans and ordered a tall green tea, taking the seat across from me. The look in his eyes was as profound as the AIM emoticons he used so liberally. And I knew mine were signaling :/ :/ :/