Month: October 2006

Look Around

Look to the past. Look to nature. Look beyond what you can see. Behind the wall that separates you from the neighbor on the other side. From the world. Look at something weird and different. Something abstract. Something that can’t be defined. Look at a different culture. A different people. A different individual. Look at yourself. Look around the next corner. Look at the second to last page and burn the last. Look . . . I have to go to legal writing. More later.

Spontaneous Panels

If you have attended college, a film festival, or a conference then you have probably sat in on a panel where selected individuals with arbitrary specific knowledge or accomplishments sit on a raised platform and speak to an audience. Sometimes, at the end, the audience, which is seated in less comfortable chairs and banned from eating or drinking is allowed to ask questions.

The audience is, from my personal observations, usually, and almost expected to be, awed by what the panel members have to say. However, more often than not the audience has had more probing and creative questions and insights than the panel members.

This prompts two thoughts for me. First, what does it take to become a panel member? I ask this not just because I want a more comfortable seat, free food, and more attention, but because they seem to be passionate about what they do. They know people that are passionate. They interact, joke, and take risks.

Second, how can we capture the energy, minus the typical hierarchy, of panels in every day life?

My answer to this is “spontaneous panels.” Panels that start on a park bench with one panelist, and are allowed to morph. Ideally, passers by will join and add their two cents.The success of this idea, or the institution of this idea to be more specific, rests on the willingness of my peers to participate.

The Demise of the Coffee Cup (and Coffee)

Coffee used to be simple. It was what we drank in the morning to wake up. It was a grown-up drink. An acquired taste. Something that smelled good, but tasted just OK. For years, coffee was consumed in moderation, not guzzled like an SUV goes through gasoline. But now, something has gone wrong. We’ve allowed coffee to take us over. To dominate our street corners and our pocketbooks. At ten bucks a day for a couple coffee drinks, many of us have to budget coffee. We tell our accountants that we need more money. That we can’t afford our habit. That the large cups are distorting our demand, and the supply is lacking. “We need more,” we shout, but only the devil, disguised as a busty coffee goddess named Starbucks, hears us.

At 25 years old, I’m young compared to coffee. But, I’ve seen enough old movies and heard enough stories of the “good ol’ days” to know the truth. I didn’t live the ups and downs of coffee, but I can empathize because we are in a coffee recession right now. Not for lack of coffee, but for lack of appreciation – for lack of respect.

The old movies show gritty detectives walking over to a grimy glass pot half full of day old coffee with grounds settled to the bottom. These men don’t grab a cup the size of the town water tower. They get a small white styrofoam cup and fill it up far enough to warm cold hands, but not so high that the simple act of walking will cause the coffee to spill and burn their hands. This is the kind of cup coffee was made for.

And jackets? Why does my coffee cup need a jacket? Why do I have to go through the trouble of putting a jacket on my coffee? Shouldn’t, considering the technological advances made during the past century, the jacket be attached to the cup?

And my biggest pet peeve. The one that gets me with each purchase is the modern cup seam that forms a tiny gap between the lid and the lower part of the seam that allows coffee to leak through and drip onto my fingers while I’m walking to class. If the coffee is hot, I get burned. If it’s cold, then it’s just disgusting. Either way, I can’t imagine a gritty detective having to deal with this distraction. It just wouldn’t happen then, and there’s no reason to tolerate it now. We deserve better.

OneWord: Differential

The only differential in our hearts is abstract and unknown, like looking in the sky for a black hole by naked eye. We don’t need to know, nor do we want to know about the future out of reach because we’ve got enough on our shoulders to drive us to the ground. And when we look around and wonder what the other sees, “What are you thinking?” is the question of the hour. There’s a single sufficient answer that fills the infinitesimal darkness that leads us on from dawn to dawn, waiting and wanting for more. But, really, in the end, no equation is ideal – only one integral phrase will do. I love you.

Going Postal

The term “going postal” originated in Edmond, Oklahoma on August 20, 1986 when a disgruntled postman named Patrick killed 14 fellow employees and wounded six more. Other significant post office shooting incidents have occurred in Michigan and California, and a total of 35 people have been killed in 11 incidents since 1983.

The first mention of the term, “going postal,” occurred in the St. Petersburg Times.

From what I hear, Edmond is a quaint town with a few good bars and decent Mexican food. Just be sure to stick to email for correspondence purposes.

Conversation: Renew Yourself

So, I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Portsmouth – the one I usually sit at – and this man and woman are sitting next to me talking over cups of coffee. She has a travel cup, probably because they’re on a first date and she thought, I can bolt if I don’t like the guy. He’s got a mug, so he isn’t going anywhere fast. What’s worse is that his hair is longer than hers.

“You’re always renewing yourself,” he says.

“Artists always look at what’s new within your self. They have an enormous curiosity,” she says.

“That’s the true mortality of life right there.”

“It’s like living in a South Park community.”

[The guy just forgot the name of Seinfeld.]

Sigh… they’re still going, but I need to read.