Whenever I hear someone talking about writing in a cafe, my brain can’t quite wrap around it. I can’t understand how someone can sit in a space with a bunch of people and accomplish anything creative.
… she writes from the brewery down the road from her apartment.
Matt — the roommate — and I have spent all of 2022 in a light self-imposed isolation. We still go to screenings when we have to for work, but it’s always a stressful affair that involves us sitting as far as humanly possible from other people. He got COVID at the beginning of the year after all of our precautions, so we definitely doubled down on safety after that point.
Now that cases are evening out again, we’re slowly venturing out into the world… again. And so here I sit with my pup and my iPad keyboard and my vodka pineapple (baby doesn’t like beer) writing up this newsletter in the loud hum of bar chatter and way-too-loud music. And, I gotta say, despite my distaste for cafe writing, bar writing kinda works for me?
Shout out to anxiety brains for making absolutely no sense, because I’m the type of person who can’t use her critical thinking skills when there are other loud noises occurring around her. Yet babbling around a bunch of loud hooligans scratches the right creative itch.
What’s my point? Brains are weird and I’m happy to be drinking a drink someone else made. And if you’re not ready to play outside again, take your time. I’m still in strictly outdoor mode myself.