It's true. The second one would be a coffee mug. The third... I haven't decided yet.
I have been reading like a maniac (MANIAC!) for most of 2008 thus far. I think I wrote a post about it earlier, listing the first few books I was going to read (the Lord of the Rings trilogy), and stating my intention to read a full 52 books this year (one for every full week of 2008). Well, I have made great strides since that post, and though I was behind on my reading for a while, I'm almost all caught up. Here's a list of what I've read so far, along with the date of the week with which the book corresponds (though I may not have read it that week):
Jan 1: Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Jan 8: Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
Jan 15: Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
Jan 22: Love in the Time of Cholera
Jan 29: Thank You For Smoking
Feb 5: Catch-22
Feb 12: Act of Treason
Feb 19: Catcher in the Rye
Feb 26: The Kite Runner
Mar 4: As I Lay Dying
Mar 11: Breakfast of Champions
Mar 18: The Gathering
Mar 25: Pour Your Heart Into It
Apr 1: Cat's Cradle
Apr 8: Brave New World
I should be starting a new book every Tuesday, since the first day of this year was a Tuesday. I had to accelerate my pace to catch up, and I'm almost there - as soon as I finish Brave New World, I will start the next book, which I was supposed to start on April 15th. You can view my list of read books, books to read, books I'm currently reading, and my favorites if you look at the Books application on my Facebook page. Whenever I go to buy new books at Borders, I put them on that application as soon as I get home.
If you have anything to suggest I add to the list, I have about 35 more books to be chosen (I've already got the next four), so please comment with your ideas.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
For the love of coffee.
Twenty two years ago, on April 8, 1986, at 6:30 AM, in Seattle, Washington, a woman quietly waited outside the front door of a brand new coffee shop. I see her walking in, requesting a cup of coffee, and walking back outside the door, hardly noticing the nervous entrepreneur watching her and his employees with care. It was the opening day of Il Giornale, a coffee bar with a true espresso machine, inspired by real experiences had by that entrepreneur in Italy. Some 2,200 miles away, my mother was massively pregnant, my due date in just ten days (I was to hold out an extra seven days).
The entrepreneur's name is Howard Schultz, now famous not for Il Giornale, but for Starbucks - the colossal coffee company which has now expanded to many different corners of the world. Little more than a year after Il Giornale quietly stepped into the business of serving coffee, Schultz was able to purchase Starbucks Coffee Company - his former employer and the original inspiration for his love affair with coffee - and combined the missions of each company to create the experience millions of customers now enjoy daily both at home and in stores. Starbucks, originally a company focused completely on whole bean sales, brought a passion for coffee and an unwavering desire for the highest quality available; Il Giornale brought an appreciation for the social connection formed over coffee and the atmosphere and products of an espresso bar. Both companies heralded the strong, ethical values for which Starbucks is widely known today.
Fast forward to December 4, 2006. Starbucks is a wildly successful international corporation with millions of customers and thousands of happily employed partners (I am the newest of those). I am standing by the coffee grinder in my first store, Highland Park Village, tasting Sumatra (an earthy, spicy Indonesian offering which has become one of Starbucks' most popular coffees). An ardent drinker of caramel macchiatos, I had never tasted regular brewed coffee before, let alone an extra bold, dark roast coffee like Sumatra. I was instantly hooked. The biggest thing I remember from that tasting is instantly knowing the spices hidden within the coffee as well as I know the backs of my hands. I could see why people loved this beverage; I could see even more clearly that it, like beer, was an acquired taste. The "mud" qualities of the coffee were not lost on me.
Back to today. I woke up at half past 5, stumbled out of bed, pulled on pants of some sort, and made my way to the Brookline Village Starbucks. I walked in, made my own French press with my favorite coffee (Guatemala Antigua), and sat quietly in my favorite chair as I drank the entire press (black, cream and sugar dilute the beautiful natural flavors) by myself. I reflected on the things I have learned about myself, business, and life (and, of course, coffee) since that day three weeks before Christmas 2006. Starbucks has changed me, for the better, I think, and as I sip this coffee, I visualize the farms in Guatemala where it was grown. I want to see, experience, take everything in. Coffee feels natural for me. This coffee in particular. Starbucks feels natural. Even waking up between 5 and 5:30 every day has begun to feel natural for me (and I always was such a night owl). I have my own insurance - health, dental, vision, and life - and stock given to me by the company. I am a trained master of coffee, and people I know in my daily life outside Starbucks routinely use me as a reference for any and all questions they have both about coffee and about my beloved employer. I feel comfortable answering these questions. I feel even more comfortable with my place in the world, and then, ever more comfortable with my place in this company. That, however, does not prevent me from aspiring to more.
This is what I was meant to do. I have rarely felt such passion about anything. I almost feel like that nervous entrepreneur, except that this is not the success and path of a business venture I am trying to gauge. It is the future of my own life. I can only hope that my foray into the world will be just as enjoyable and successful (not just in terms of money... Starbucks is successful in many ways) as that of this company, which I hope will help me along as I learn and grow.
37 years ago, in 1971, Starbucks Coffee Company opened the doors of its Pike Place store (the new roast's namesake) and began educating normal consumers about the joys of the best coffee in the world. 22 years ago, Howard Schultz stood at the helm of Il Giornale, hoping desperately that he could recreate an experience he had found thousands of miles away for the Seattlites he had come to love while prospering as a marketing expert at Starbucks. On August 18, 1987, those dreams merged, and American business will never be the same.
I will never be the same.
The entrepreneur's name is Howard Schultz, now famous not for Il Giornale, but for Starbucks - the colossal coffee company which has now expanded to many different corners of the world. Little more than a year after Il Giornale quietly stepped into the business of serving coffee, Schultz was able to purchase Starbucks Coffee Company - his former employer and the original inspiration for his love affair with coffee - and combined the missions of each company to create the experience millions of customers now enjoy daily both at home and in stores. Starbucks, originally a company focused completely on whole bean sales, brought a passion for coffee and an unwavering desire for the highest quality available; Il Giornale brought an appreciation for the social connection formed over coffee and the atmosphere and products of an espresso bar. Both companies heralded the strong, ethical values for which Starbucks is widely known today.
Fast forward to December 4, 2006. Starbucks is a wildly successful international corporation with millions of customers and thousands of happily employed partners (I am the newest of those). I am standing by the coffee grinder in my first store, Highland Park Village, tasting Sumatra (an earthy, spicy Indonesian offering which has become one of Starbucks' most popular coffees). An ardent drinker of caramel macchiatos, I had never tasted regular brewed coffee before, let alone an extra bold, dark roast coffee like Sumatra. I was instantly hooked. The biggest thing I remember from that tasting is instantly knowing the spices hidden within the coffee as well as I know the backs of my hands. I could see why people loved this beverage; I could see even more clearly that it, like beer, was an acquired taste. The "mud" qualities of the coffee were not lost on me.
Back to today. I woke up at half past 5, stumbled out of bed, pulled on pants of some sort, and made my way to the Brookline Village Starbucks. I walked in, made my own French press with my favorite coffee (Guatemala Antigua), and sat quietly in my favorite chair as I drank the entire press (black, cream and sugar dilute the beautiful natural flavors) by myself. I reflected on the things I have learned about myself, business, and life (and, of course, coffee) since that day three weeks before Christmas 2006. Starbucks has changed me, for the better, I think, and as I sip this coffee, I visualize the farms in Guatemala where it was grown. I want to see, experience, take everything in. Coffee feels natural for me. This coffee in particular. Starbucks feels natural. Even waking up between 5 and 5:30 every day has begun to feel natural for me (and I always was such a night owl). I have my own insurance - health, dental, vision, and life - and stock given to me by the company. I am a trained master of coffee, and people I know in my daily life outside Starbucks routinely use me as a reference for any and all questions they have both about coffee and about my beloved employer. I feel comfortable answering these questions. I feel even more comfortable with my place in the world, and then, ever more comfortable with my place in this company. That, however, does not prevent me from aspiring to more.
This is what I was meant to do. I have rarely felt such passion about anything. I almost feel like that nervous entrepreneur, except that this is not the success and path of a business venture I am trying to gauge. It is the future of my own life. I can only hope that my foray into the world will be just as enjoyable and successful (not just in terms of money... Starbucks is successful in many ways) as that of this company, which I hope will help me along as I learn and grow.
37 years ago, in 1971, Starbucks Coffee Company opened the doors of its Pike Place store (the new roast's namesake) and began educating normal consumers about the joys of the best coffee in the world. 22 years ago, Howard Schultz stood at the helm of Il Giornale, hoping desperately that he could recreate an experience he had found thousands of miles away for the Seattlites he had come to love while prospering as a marketing expert at Starbucks. On August 18, 1987, those dreams merged, and American business will never be the same.
I will never be the same.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
The intersection of imminent death!
Massachusetts Avenue & Albany Street.
Especially if you're crossing from the southwest corner to the southeast corner. There are people turning left into the southbound lanes of Mass Ave, many in order to get onto the freeway, and they really don't seem to care that pedestrians have a walk sign as they hit the gas and try harder to hit us. Crossing on that southern side of Mass Ave, both directions of lanes, I have almost been hit by cars too many times to remember. I feel like I will definitely die in a hit-and-run at that intersection if I keep working near it.
Especially if you're crossing from the southwest corner to the southeast corner. There are people turning left into the southbound lanes of Mass Ave, many in order to get onto the freeway, and they really don't seem to care that pedestrians have a walk sign as they hit the gas and try harder to hit us. Crossing on that southern side of Mass Ave, both directions of lanes, I have almost been hit by cars too many times to remember. I feel like I will definitely die in a hit-and-run at that intersection if I keep working near it.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Finally alone.
Most teenagers seem to have this sort of feeling of being alone, some very specific (and unsurprisingly common) idea that no one quite understands them, that they are very much alone. Aside from exceptional cases, this is far from the truth - most teenagers have parents willing to support them (emotionally, financially, or both), siblings to besiege them or to besiege, a community that watches them for signs of the future, a group of friends which is inherently vacant of truth but nevertheless full of the comfort that sameness brings. This feeling - angst, do they call it? - is a dramatic premonition of things that may come to be as teenagers age and, in many cases, become adults. For some teenagers, this glimpse is enough for them to desert the ideas of individuality and ingenuity - they settle into patterns that lead them to paths beaten to death by those that came before them, grasping onto anyone who seems to share any similarities with them at all.
Most people, I think, will eventually come to a crossroads; a place where they must choose one path or another. The way to the crossroads is often a tough one. In my case, I have become increasingly alone, in part due to the repercussions of my own choices, in a way that I feared as a teenager. So, this is what depression is like as an adult. No more angst. Some switch in my head flipped, and depression is no longer debilitating (though I can see how it would be), but rather, a needling pain that could literally make me insane if left to fester. It has become another hurdle, another item to be addressed, almost as if I were paying a bill. This bill requires persistence; there is no ultimate solution. Just as in the end, you always owe someone money (death taxes, anyone?), in the end, I will always have this very basic need that will have to be addressed.
There are varying degrees of aloneness, based on physical, mental, emotional, and financial needs that must be satisfied. I am not financially alone. I am mostly supporting my basic day-to-day needs, but there is help, if I need it, readily available. Otherwise, I am alone. I have basic contact with my coworkers, very rare contact with friends, and regular contact with customers. I would say, at this point, that I do not really have friends here. I have acquaintances through my jobs. I do not have a significant other or any promising candidates. My only confidantes live thousands of miles away. I have my family, but I can only get to them by calling them or jumping on a plane. I could disappear completely, and no one would know, notice, or care until I missed several days of work. I go to work, I go home, I go to Starbucks to enjoy tea and a book, sometimes I go to the gym and run some lonely miles before driving home to shower, usher the cats out of my room, and go to sleep, only to wake up and do all of it all over again. I go to my favorite bar to read and drink, alone, at the end of the bar, occasionally being addressed in a friendly way by the staff I have come to know. I feel pathetic, loserly. I don't have time to make friends, I guess, between the two jobs, and even if I did have the time, I would not know where to go.
This aloneness is not going to go away any time soon. Frankly, I'm trying to get used to the idea that it will be this way for me for the rest of my life, or perhaps until I have a child. I'm not trying to garner sympathy, but instead, convey the realization I recently had: the images we are fed as children of growing up to be instant husbands, wives, fathers, mothers don't just create themselves, and when they do, they do not always happen to the people who desire such things the most, or even the people who are ready for such things. I never doubted, until recently, that I would someday find a husband and eventually have children, figuring out a way to make it work with my other life goals. This isn't a feeling of angst or self-pity; I'm just going to keep carrying on like I do now. Do I wish I had someone I could love unconditionally, who loved me unconditionally, who was physically here when I needed them? Yes.
Maybe I'll just have to get a puppy.
Most people, I think, will eventually come to a crossroads; a place where they must choose one path or another. The way to the crossroads is often a tough one. In my case, I have become increasingly alone, in part due to the repercussions of my own choices, in a way that I feared as a teenager. So, this is what depression is like as an adult. No more angst. Some switch in my head flipped, and depression is no longer debilitating (though I can see how it would be), but rather, a needling pain that could literally make me insane if left to fester. It has become another hurdle, another item to be addressed, almost as if I were paying a bill. This bill requires persistence; there is no ultimate solution. Just as in the end, you always owe someone money (death taxes, anyone?), in the end, I will always have this very basic need that will have to be addressed.
There are varying degrees of aloneness, based on physical, mental, emotional, and financial needs that must be satisfied. I am not financially alone. I am mostly supporting my basic day-to-day needs, but there is help, if I need it, readily available. Otherwise, I am alone. I have basic contact with my coworkers, very rare contact with friends, and regular contact with customers. I would say, at this point, that I do not really have friends here. I have acquaintances through my jobs. I do not have a significant other or any promising candidates. My only confidantes live thousands of miles away. I have my family, but I can only get to them by calling them or jumping on a plane. I could disappear completely, and no one would know, notice, or care until I missed several days of work. I go to work, I go home, I go to Starbucks to enjoy tea and a book, sometimes I go to the gym and run some lonely miles before driving home to shower, usher the cats out of my room, and go to sleep, only to wake up and do all of it all over again. I go to my favorite bar to read and drink, alone, at the end of the bar, occasionally being addressed in a friendly way by the staff I have come to know. I feel pathetic, loserly. I don't have time to make friends, I guess, between the two jobs, and even if I did have the time, I would not know where to go.
This aloneness is not going to go away any time soon. Frankly, I'm trying to get used to the idea that it will be this way for me for the rest of my life, or perhaps until I have a child. I'm not trying to garner sympathy, but instead, convey the realization I recently had: the images we are fed as children of growing up to be instant husbands, wives, fathers, mothers don't just create themselves, and when they do, they do not always happen to the people who desire such things the most, or even the people who are ready for such things. I never doubted, until recently, that I would someday find a husband and eventually have children, figuring out a way to make it work with my other life goals. This isn't a feeling of angst or self-pity; I'm just going to keep carrying on like I do now. Do I wish I had someone I could love unconditionally, who loved me unconditionally, who was physically here when I needed them? Yes.
Maybe I'll just have to get a puppy.
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