Character Sketch

My heart skips a beat as I watch him walk in, uniform and all. He’s handsome, and I blush. Too old for me I wonder. He smiles and nods in my direction, making his way through the packed coffee house. I’m glad I found the quietest spot in the joint, and as he sits down to join me I feel myself growing nervous. I introduce myself, and as he grabs my hand, I can feel the warmth of his palm between my fingers. Has he held a gun in this hand I wonder? Has he carried an injured partner I wonder? Noticing a scar on his upper cheek, I make a mental note to ask about it. He makes a witty comment about how packed it is, worse than The Other Side he smiles. I laugh, and grab my spiral. I slap my forehead and apologize for forgetting to ask if he’d like something to drink. After he shakes it off, he tells me he swore off caffeine after being deployed. He goes on to explain how it messed up his sleep cycle, and there isn’t anything worse than not sleeping well and adding to an already intensified paranoia. I feel so incredibly comfortable in his presence. I let him know, and he smirks, letting me know he has this effect on a lot of people. As I begin to ask questions, he leans back and relaxes, elaborating at every chance. 30 minutes becomes an hour as an hour becomes 2, and then finally 3, when we decide to meet again, somewhere new.

Interview Anecdote 3

As we shake hands and get up to leave, his scarred face catches my attention. He leads me to the front, and as we’ve shared conversation the dark blanket of night has fallen on Higgins. I watch him as he silently slips his hat onto the top of his head. He reminds me of our next interview place and time, leans down for a casual hug, and disappears into the dark. My stomach falls a little, and I can’t wait to get back home to write about this. I haven’t felt this hopeful about a piece of writing in a long time, and I decide that I’m going to put a lot, all, of my effort to make this man look like the hero I believe him to be.

Interview Anecdote 2

Did I lock my car, I thought to myself as I pulled open Liquid Planet’s front door. I looked to the left, saw the packed window bar, and didn’t recognize anyone. Although I’ve only seen a picture of this man, I get the vibe I’ll recognize him right away, as if he has some magical presence. I look up at the chalk boards, and notice an entire board dedicated to tea- phew-ee, I sigh. It doesn’t look like he’s here yet; early as always, I grab my iced peach tea, 2 Splenda packets, and find a spot near the back in a booth. I’m rubbing my hands together with anticipation, and as I see a gentleman enter the coffee shop in uniform, my heart begins to race.

Interview Anecdote 1

I was really nervous while preparing for my interview. I neatly typed all of the questions I was planning to ask, and I mentally prepared a few just in case the electricity fell dead. My marine and I decided to meet at Liquid Planet, for a relaxed and feel-good environment. I had already promised myself to not order coffee because I know how jittery I get. I made a second mental note to ask about what kind of tea I might enjoy, hoping they had iced anything. I grabbed my phone, placed it in my purse, locked and shut the door, and made my way downstairs towards my car.

I'm not sure there is anything more satisfying than being able to flip the page in your calendar. Especially between the months of February and March. Spring is only 3 weeks away! I bought a whole bunch of new clothes, thinking I'd be able to wear them. But no. Of course the weather decides to dump snow on my wardrobe. I was so upset about it I wore them anyways, and now I think I may be sick again. Smart me.

profile exploration

I could never, ever, be an R.A. It’s difficult for me to even put up with girls as friends. Having to deal with them, on a daily basis, as an authoritative figure, seems impossible. Don’t get me wrong, I love my R.A. I think she’s great at her job, but I know I could never ever do it. I’m not really sure if this says much about me, or maybe I’m afraid that it says too much about me.

chipped nail polish

I'm looking down at my hands, and I can't help but notice the pretty pink polish coating my pale nails. I look at my right ring finger and notice the awkward shape; it's callased and shallow on one side because of how hard I grip my pen. Move one over and I see my middle finger. Fuck you is what I think. My pointer is crooked because of the numerous painful jammings between basketball seasons. Thumbs are weird. Period. My eyes drift past both my left pointer and middle, landing on my left ring finger. My prettiest finger, I've always thought. The only thing that might make it look better is a man. With money. And a big, fat, sparkly diamond. Where is that man, I wonder. Where is that man with my big, fat, sparkly diamond? Where are you, man?