Really, I do. My knowledge of their history is rather scarce - something to do with France, no doubt, as my high school French class taught me. But whoever decided that a chic little place with cool music and tasty pastries should be created so that overstressed peoples (such as college students and business employees) could stop in to have a tasty beverage and perhaps discuss the meaning of life, is truly my hero. Seriously. I have had two of the busiest weeks yet this year; last week being a mad race looking at possible apartments only to have our dreams shattered, glued back together, shattered again, then oddly resurrected. I was also preparing for a debate in a science and humanities class, stop trying to diagnose myself with every psychological disorder I read about in Abnormal Psych, and trying to keep from freaking out about the fact that I speak Italian just about as well as Brad Pitt in Inglorious Basterds (though without the fun Tennessee accent). Then this week, it hit me that Valentine's Day is coming up and I was thrown into a deep melancholy (for reasons which I will discuss elsewhere) from which I only emerged through joy of realizing that next year I will actually be living in a sweet 1940s hotel renovated into apartments (the outcome of all this very complicated and totally irrelevant at the moment) and through the delight of discussing exorcisms with one of my professors. Yes, exorcisms made me happy - deeply twisted, I know. But it's been one of those weeks. So a reprieve in a Dinkytown cafe while discussing why Bernard Marx from Brave New World is pretty whiney was sorely needed.
Perhaps it's the sort of people who are drawn to cafes that I like too. Hipsters may be a mystery to me, but there's something about those large-rimmed glasses and "that's so mainstream" cynicism that makes me feel oddly warm and fuzzy. I really need to spend more time away from caffeine, but honestly - where else can scribble away and stare off into space without being stared at as a total freak? There's a reason why writers hang out in these environments (the stimulants of coffee and sugar being, of course, an obvious great addition). I feel at comfortable there, like it's some sort of strange extension of the living space I've always wanted to have (with rough brick walls and fun lighting techniques). Of course, then there's the statistic I was given as to how the number one job for Cultural Studies majors involves being employed at a cafe. I wonder why... :)
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