Large Coffee With A Side Of Cliche

I am a cliche. I’m currently sitting in the mall Starbucks with an iced coffee, blogging on my ipad, wearing a black t-shirt, and displaying a pretentious air of superiority to those I wrongfully label sheep, soccer mom, bro and annoying old lady. Apologies to all except the sunglassed bro guy with the “Win At All Costs!” t-shirt. Fuck that guy, right!?

I’m actually just killing time waiting for my car to be done. The Lady aka Mighty Keeper of Credit Cards will not be happy with me. My lack of timely automobile maintenance is gonna cost us, but that’s my life. Slack off for as long as I can, then pay for it dearly. Come to think of it, I’m actually slacking off right now by missing a few hours of work to take care of the car. Nice!

Some notables on my surroundings:

  • Good 90s mix on in here. Heard Pearl Jam, Pumpkins and now that Groove Is In The Heart song. Barista girl is singing along too 💃.
  • Guy next to me is speaking on his phone in Hebrew I think. I’m just guessing it’s Hebrew because he sounds just like Adam Sandler in You Don’t Mess With The Zohan. What, you’re so cultured!?
  • Alanis Morrisette is very thankful for India, frailty, terror, consequence, and silence. 90s mix remember?
  • Lots of people here change out their coffees when not satisfied. I want to strangle this woman who thought her iced coffee would be hot, but the singing barista is very accomodating.
  • Stopped to browse in Hot Topic before ending up here. Came across an Ed Sheeren t-shirt. Later I will burn down the Hot Topic. You’re welcome.

So far I’ve only burned about 45 minutes of work time sitting here. If all goes well, I’ve got 3 more hours to kill, and 2 left to bank for a later date. We get very little “emergency time” but what constitutes “emergency” is to our discretion, so enough about my company’s HR policies. Anyway, off to buy some lighter fluid.

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The Slackers

We were awesome, pathetic, brilliant, stupid, and insane; a small group of like minded 18-22 year old slackers with empty pockets, shitty cars, and middle fingers raised. We fed off each other’s sarcasm, bathroom humor, and a healthy taste for alcohol and mild drugs. In small apartments that reeked of cheap beer and weed, we debated the prowess of Floyd and Zeppelin, and bemoaned our underpaying jobs, and self inflicted circumstances. We wished we were from the sixties, dressed like Kurt Cobain, and hid from life like Holden Cauffield. It was heaven.

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A Slacker is Born

I think I actually remember the first time I consciously indulged in the fine art of slacking. I was seven years old, in my second grade class-room. It was quiet time, and we were supposed to be doing work in our work-books. All the other kids were studiously hunched over their desks with pencils scribbling furiously. Well, this just didn’t look fun at all to me. I clearly remember leaning back in my chair, looking at my work-book, thinking “nope”. I just sat there looking around, listening to the silence and feeling completely removed from whatever motivation was driving my peers. My teacher, Mrs. Weinstein didn’t seem too concerned, so I was also learning the pros of being under the radar.

Now, it might sound as if I was just being a brat, and shrugging off work, but it wasn’t about that. I wasn’t looking for trouble, passing notes or shooting spit-balls. I was just enjoying being alone in my own thoughts. And, the thing I remember more than anything about the moment was just feeling at peace. Peace in doing my own thing (which was nothing). Peace, listening to the silence. Peace, realizing the freedom in exercising free will. Peace in being the outsider.

So, the dreamer, outsider, slacker was born in that moment. There are times where these traits are obviously detrimental, but for the most part I’m glad to bear them. Contrarily, I see others in this world who spend their whole lives reacting needlessly to the pressures of the outside world. They are so stressed, and I wonder if they ever take the time to just slow down, and visit with themselves. Collect their thoughts, and breathe for a minute while everyone else is scribbling furiously. Hey, it works for me.

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