So I went to the mall today in hopes that I could get some writing done. When I’m at home, I’ve got all these distractions: computer games, TV shows, and movies all cry out to me, begging for my attention.I use the mall and coffee shops as a kind of office: a place to get work done. So when I arrived, I found a nice seat in the food court and planted myself firmly into the highbacked booth seat. I whipped out my MacBook Air, launched JDarkRoom, and started re-reading the short story I had begun to write. I edited a couple of sentences, replaced a couple of words. And then a figure in a white polo shirt paused in front of me. I looked up. Lo and behold, it’s my friend Harold.
I was surprised to see Harold. Apparently it was his day off. He plopped down next to me, an orange juice in hand. We started chatting it up and all, talked for damn nearly two hours. It was great talking with him, but in the back of my mind, I really wanted to get some writing done. Time wore on and I eventually extricated myself, heading toward the Gap store, which turned out not to have the jacket I wanted to check out before buying it online.Leaving empty handed and a little parched from the extended conversation and the sunny skies, I eventually ended up in a Hispanic bakery near my home. I stopped in for a Columbian kola, which was rather delightfully different than what I normally come across. Come to think of it, I should’ve taken a picture of it with my iPhone…anyway, as I finished my beverage while browsing Craigslist on my crappily slow EDGE connection, a phone call came through. It was from my Think Carton company line, which was odd: my client list at the moment is empty. I just let it hit voicemail: if anyone was calling about Think Carton, the only way they could’ve gotten the number is by filling out a contact request, which means I would’ve gotten an email. My business cards haven’t been updated to include the company either, so that wasn’t a possiblity. Anyway, no message was left, and I returned home, not having written a single new sentence in my short story. Apparently the number that called me turns out to be some Spanish-language telemarketer from Corona, CA.Oh yeah, this is just a journal entry. There is nothing profound to be said. Sorry folks.