Internal Dialogue

I’m a hardcore introvert, which will come as a surprise to absolutely no one who knows me. I travel, work, and play alone (bonus: sometimes even silently). I love people, but I’m best one-on-one and get quiet in crowds.

However, the internal dialogue is ridiculously intense, coming from all directions. A touch of ADD makes it hard to focus on just one strain of dialogue, too. The only reason I get anything done is because I’m so stubborn: when I’m set on something, I’ll get there.  Sometimes I get stubborn about two separate courses of action that conflict, though. When I reflect on that particular strain of internal dialogue, I have to laugh at myself.

Death to Wall Street: Coffee at Eighth and Roast

Eighth and Roast, a coffee shop on 8th Street in Nashville, TN that roasts and grinds its own beans, was teeming with hipsters complaining about their music careers when I walked in Thursday morning.  I had honestly never seen so many people wearing flannel shirts in one place.  Most seats were full but I managed one at the end of a long table, eavesdropped, and sipped my latte.  It was worth venturing twenty minutes from home for, but I wished it tasted a tiny bit creamier.

Outside, a man on a bicycle pulled up to the door.  He was old and looked a bit homeless, but as I watched him longer, I realized he was probably just wearing older clothes and riding his bike by choice.  After ordering he came around to a seat next to me, one of the only empty ones.