homeward bound

I came home from the bookstore early tonight. I enjoyed writing there, but ... I've done a lot or writing this week-end. And I feel jumpy from drinking my cappuccino. There was some dude there, bragging about writing a movie and working on some treatment. He bugged me, as did these two girls who were studying, but more talking. I hate that, when little girls jabber away in a coffeehouse. as if no one is around.

And they were doing inventory that night, and had this special team come in. They were all African-American. I thought, "How screwed up is that?" Everyone coming in to work the night shift is black. That is so typical.

The people were really bugging me there tonight, I don't know why. And I have never felt this much absolute dread at the possibility of going back to work. I probably will quit, just so that I never have to go back to that placea gain. Then again, at least it will motivate me to continue writing, because I'm so frickin' bored.