Psyched Ost
Being a wannabe writer in New York has its pros and cons. Inspiration really is everywhere: Beauty, comedy and tragedy are readily available, and eavesdropping is inevitable. There are plenty of bohemian cafés with free wi-fi to help you look the part. But living in a city with a disproportionate percentage of aspiring artists means that everyone falls into the bottleneck. Squeezing through it requires talent, quite a bit of luck, and an inordinate amount of will. One of my biggest obstacles is insecurity, because 1) I seek approval and hate disappointing others, 2) I'm still working on convincing myself that writing is a valid career choice and 3) hello, Asian. Actually, all of these things probably have to do with being Asian. On the one hand, being neurotic makes me feel more like a real writer. But it can also douse the ignition I desperately need to open up Final Draft and start typing. The reasonable part of me knows that no one is looking over my shoulder, but sometimes it's hard to believe that I can keep up with whatever's on all the Macbook screens around me.
anyway413 and I are resuming our mid-week coffeehouse meetings. Today we are at Ost Café, which Annie accurately describes as "a TV version of the East Village." Everyone here is wearing muted layers and staring intently at sleek white Macbooks or charmingly dog-eared Dostoyevsky books. As I entered in my giant brassy puffer from a Taiwan bargain bin, asked for an iced macchiato (which the barista gently corrected to "iced latte," since hot foamed milk + ice = does not compute), gingerly picked my way past the Nicks and Norahs to the lone available lounge seat in the corner and pulled out my 2007 Dell Inspiron (They're Boxy, But They're Good!), I could imagine feel the silent judgment and disapproval. -1,000 HP (Hipster Points)
I temporarily switched to a Plus account so that I could add a customized mood theme, so now there are ads on my LJ. Valerie Bertinelli is grinning at me. It's bolstering to know that if the indie kids don't want me, someone's got my back!
anyway413 and I are resuming our mid-week coffeehouse meetings. Today we are at Ost Café, which Annie accurately describes as "a TV version of the East Village." Everyone here is wearing muted layers and staring intently at sleek white Macbooks or charmingly dog-eared Dostoyevsky books. As I entered in my giant brassy puffer from a Taiwan bargain bin, asked for an iced macchiato (which the barista gently corrected to "iced latte," since hot foamed milk + ice = does not compute), gingerly picked my way past the Nicks and Norahs to the lone available lounge seat in the corner and pulled out my 2007 Dell Inspiron (They're Boxy, But They're Good!), I could imagine feel the silent judgment and disapproval. -1,000 HP (Hipster Points)
I temporarily switched to a Plus account so that I could add a customized mood theme, so now there are ads on my LJ. Valerie Bertinelli is grinning at me. It's bolstering to know that if the indie kids don't want me, someone's got my back!