Almost the Same

Frosty temperatures are preventing people from walking about. The streets are almost empty, it's like the world is slowly freezing stagnant. No kids running around, no elderies walking their dogs. I close my eyes and think about a time when people liked being outside, a time when there was room left for other thoughts than how grey and depressing everything is. It's way passed noon and I'm still at home. That's what the cold does to me. 

Of course, that's only a cheap excuse; who am I kidding. But it's sort of a vicious cycle. I feel lazy when I'm not outside doing something, exploring the city or at least be at school. I considered taking some time to go out and just read. People don't do that anymore. There's a nice coffee place with bright windows and nice wooden tables not too far away from here. But then, I think, why spend 2,20 on a cup of coffee, just to go read a book. 

It's a debacle, because I obviously know it's not only the coffee that I'm paying for, it's also the comfortable seating, the soothing random music, the oddly comfortable company of strangers. I tell myself that I could have all that at home, too. I have a chair, I can create a random playlist, and I can have some Woody Allen film playing in the background. Plus, I have a huge jar of Nescafé Gold instant coffee waiting to be spooned and liquidised.   

So why go through all the trouble, right? This is even better, this is much better than the coffee shop. All the hassle of putting on real clothes, walking out into the cold, the merciless cold, just to get exposed in the midst of brutally awkward acts of social exhibitionism. Here, on the other hand, I'm safe. I'm leisurely sucking in the cultural goods of the world within the parameters of my own home. I let out a heavy sigh, and start packing my bags.