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.

It’s October!

This means a few things:

Red and yellow abound. The fall foliage will be peaking soon. Here’s some info on Vermont’s celebration on October 10. They have a flannel contest. Amazing.

I’ve known my NH friends for over a month and it seems like a lot longer… in a good way. Lots of memories.

Ski season will soon be upon us.

The Detroit Tigers are in the playoffs for the first time since 1987.

Why Law School?

I ask this question of myself daily and never have a good answer. Today in legal writing, a class which I am usually marginally disinterested despite finding the actual skills it teaches useful, we were prompted to think about what we want out of law school and what we expect from our jobs. I haven’t thought about this much since getting to school. The work has taken over and I’ve been coasting with regard to questioning the purpose of my education. Now, I’m wondering, thanks to legal writing, why I’m here.

Thinking about this – whatever this is – makes me tense because it highlights how little I know about the life path I’m actively paying to follow. Before I got to law school I didn’t know why I wanted to come here, except that it seemed interesting. I may have told you some bullshit answer like, “Intellectual property is compelling.” If I did, I’m sorry. I had no idea what I was talking about at the time. IP is apparently, although I will have no personal experience with the subject matter until the beginning of next semester when I take an IP elective, similar to watching paint dry on a wall.

So, why then? What’s the draw? Do I like it now that I’m here?

Yeah, I like it more than I thought I would. I like that there are rules within which we operate. There is structure, but at the same time a creative mind can work within the structure (in an ethical manner) to do some good. To get a better case for their client. To gain the respect of their peers. And, ultimately, for one’s own satisfaction, to accomplish something. To be able to look back and say that I worked hard and I was sincere and I hope that I made some other people’s lives better as a result.

The day to day of law school isn’t so bad. Civil Procedure and Legal Writing on MWF and Contracts and Torts on TTh. Two classes a day. There’s a lot of free time, which I guess you could call study time, but no sane person would spend all of it in the noble pursuit of law. And those that do bug me. I’m sorry, but there’s more to life than school.

I don’t know where I’m going with this other than to get it off my head and out there. I’ve said a lot of it before, but it won’t get old. Not for three more years, and even then, I’ll be spending the rest of my life being a lawyer.

Hmmm… I’m becoming more OK with that.