A cup of joe

As I was ordering a coffee between a break in my early morning class I had a flashback to the days waiting for a coffee at a Starbucks outside of the Westlake Center branch in downtown Seattle four years ago. Those were brutally chilly gray mornings and the Americanos I ordered couldn't hit my stomach soon enough. Then I had another flashback to Redmond seven years back, and driving through a coffee stand near the branch I worked at and the coffees I used to guzzle down to put up with my Cruella DeVille replica boss and just to get the juice to walk through the branch doors. And then yet another one from the coffee shop across the street from the In-store branch inside of a Safeway I worked at in Kirkland over ten years back. Then I was driving my Nissan Pathfinder and motivating myself to walk aisles and sell banking products to people shopping for eggs and milk. Those early morning coffees were my lifeline and my main consistency over the years. It could be a different city, a different job, usually the same dread, and just about the same morning coffee.

A cup of coffee in 1950? How about 5 cents.

It's been ingrained in me, I am a coffee aficionado. It's no longer just fuel just to get going, it has replaced water in my body and blood in my veins as the body fluid of choice. For the past ten years I have drank more coffee than entire cities I'm sure. This would be cities in Arizona and the southwest, the northwest cities drink more than entire continents! I started drinking Mochas years ago and when I saw that my face looked like a I was suckling off a helium tank I switched to the bitter Americanos I still drink to this day. That switch happened in 2004. I even remember the gym I was working out at and the trainer that recommended them, so addicted to my caffeine fix, I can remember the day I switched my morning cup of joe easier than past girls I dated or even close acquaintances. Truth be told, my cup of coffee has been a better friend. It's certainly been more reliable than most, its been consistent, sometimes too bitter, sometimes too sweet, but always familiar.

The first coffee house in England was established in 1654 and is still in existence in Oxford today. The first coffee house ever recorded was in Constantinople in the Ottoman Empire in 1555. They became popular in the US in the 1960's during the folk music and beatnik crowd. Bob Dylan began his career perfoming in them. Nowadays coffee houses are corporate store fronts or drive thrus. Some are locally owned private entities but most are chains. I wonder what the folk music and beatnik writer crowd would think if they saw the transformation of the coffee house from the creative haven they shared to the corporate ballrooms they've become. To me, it's all immaterial, I go for the drink. My day is not set until I shell out 3 bucks for some grounded coffee beans and hot water. They make a solid 2.50 profit margin on my drink a day. So I'm successfully contributing to the well-oiled and caffeinated corporatized machine. I can spew my venom at whatever corporation I am working for at the time while contributing to an even larger one, gotta love it.

I've had some wonderful cups of coffee. I've drank coffee all over the world. Bad Ass coffee is located in Maui. I've had coffee on the beach watching the crashing waves. I've had coffee looking at the canals in Venice and I've had coffee in a truck stop in Turlock trying to keep my eyes open to continue my journey. Mainly however, coffee reminds me of my early mornings and the stages of my life. Where was I ten years ago? I am not sure, but if I am grabbing a morning coffee it may come back to me. If I had a nickel for every cup of coffee I've ever bought and drank I may be able to afford my next cup of coffee.

**Why is it called a cup of joe, you may ask? Well here you go:

The phrase "cup of Joe" goes back to the mid-1840s. Despite the folk etymology that the phrase derives from Josephus Daniels, the Secretary of the Navy who banned the serving of alcohol on ships in 1914, the phrase is known to predate his service.

**Now you know.

A lifetime fan basks in the moment- Giants are the Champs!

Not too much to say because it is still sinking in, but the Giants have won the World Series! The Giants have won the World Series! The Giants,... The SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS have won the World Series! A team no one expected and many gave up on (myself included in a brutal loss in the NLDS to Atlanta) came through in the end with grit, will, and incredible monumental pitching. These guys were fearless. They attacked the strike zone and faced the best of the best. They didn't back their way into it. They beat the Braves, then they smoked the favored Phillies, and finally the mighty Rangers. All went down with flailing swings, unable to lay off Big Time Timmy Jim's slider and looking overmatched against the 5'11" 170 lb Freak.

Buster Posey-2010 ROY

So in honor of the amazing Giants of 2010. I'm sending this one out to my favorite Giants of yesterday along with the World Series Champs! This one belongs to all of them!

Freddy Sanchez



Will the Thrill





Kevin Mitchell

Robby Thompson



The original Ooo-ribe..Jose

 

Juan Uribe-Jose's cousin

Dave Dravecky

Jeff Kent



The Freak, Timmy Lincecum



Rod Beck









Brian Wilson




The All-time HR leader Barry Bonds





Willie McCovey..He owns some water behind the Park

There are too many more and I can't stay up all night posting their pics. This years heroes: Aubrey Huff, Cody Ross, The MVP Edgar Renteria, Matt Cain, Mad Bum, JT Snow, John Burkett, Jason Schmidt, Big Daddy Rick Reuschel, Don Robinson, Mike Krukow, and the managers..Roger Craig, Felipe Alou, Dusty Baker, too many to name, hopefully all a part of tonight.....thanks for the memories and Congratulations!













It's phtalo blue...not falo blue..got it

I remember watching this white guy with an enormous afro painting on tv when I was a kid. He would talk very softly and danced his brush across the canvas and if almost by magic beautiful images appeared out of nowhere. I wasn't sure if he was an artist or an illusionist. He painted images of "happy little trees",clouds, and that phtalo blue sky right before our eyes. I googled falo blue for half an hour before I found the correct spelling. Turns out it is not a shade of blue but the type of oil paint he used. He created whatever he wanted to on a canvas, kind of like life. It is whatever we decide to paint that day. Either they are "happy trees", or they are not. Either we paint a bright sky or a dark and cloudy one. We are all the artists in a way, how we choose to paint the canvas is up to us.



Bob Ross with his phtalo blue.

 Instead of focusing on what isn't, time to focus on what IS. This year has been incredible. I travelled to the Grand Canyon and hiked in Havasupai Falls. I travelled to Europe and visited the Colosseum and the Eiffel Tower. I went to Spain and I visited the Mediterranean. It's tough to feel too bad for myself. My Lakers won the NBA title. The Giants are playing in the World Series. This year has been pretty magical. Sure, I lost love, but I had love to lose..not many people get that and I've lived years without love at all. These things can't be forgotten. You can't legitimately expect no hurdles in life, or in years of our lives. This year has had it's ups and downs. But it has had some amazing ups. As if riding on a roller coaster and as the ride goes higher I've had moments where I've been carried out of my seat into the sky and have looked down upon the world below me. If you would have told me that I may lose my relationship and a job in 2010 but I'd get all of these other things, I am not sure I would say no to that. I can find another job. And if something is meant to be it will work itself out, if it is not, then we move on. It's life.

Life is nothing but transitional. It's the juice that wakes us up in the morning. Yeah we can sit and fret about past decisions but those decisions make us who we are and lead us to new revelations. I'm finishing my degree at 33. Guess what? It's ok. There is not a strict timetable to life. With medicine and science we'll probably all live till we are 110, might as well not rush the thing. Things happen when they are supposed to happen. Grandma Moses started painting at age 76 and completed 1000's of painting by her death at 101. An 82-year old man just hiked Mount Kilimanjaro. Age is not a number that should restrain any goals or be measured against.

I set goals in January for 2010 and I have to say I honestly accomplished a lot of them. That I was sitting here this morning in deep melancholy feeling sorry for myself is not really fair. I should be grateful and optimistic, and set new goals. Sometimes however we achieve something it is not as fulfilling as we imagined. I'm not any better off because I mowed down a list of objectives. I didn't change who I am, but that doesn't mean we stop striving. I think the first 6 months were outer goals and the last 6 months have been a far more personal journey from within. I may not have visited as many tropical locations from June on, but I've dug into myself a heck of a lot deeper, and not always liking what has been coming out. And yet I realize I've probably gained more from that too.

Here's to anticipation..good anticipation. Not fear. Not doubt. Hope. Sometimes it is rewarded and sometimes it is not and we sit in a pumpkin patch all night waiting for something that isn't going to happen, but I'd rather live in hope than doubt.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiSIQzwIPzQ

The winds of change

Outside the wind is howling. It roared last night for hours and I laid in bed wondering if a tree would come crashing through my bedroom window doors. There is something foreboding about a windstorm. The limbs of the trees sway and bend, they arch and reach towards you. Fence doors swing open and pound against the house, garbage cans fall over and bounce on the ground, and noises you can't explain echo down the hallway. It definitely feels like Halloween is approaching. And in a way the scariest thing about scary movies or Halloween is uncertainty. We are unsure of what is going to happen next.

Will Micheal Myers be in the closet? Or is Freddy waiting until we close our eyes? The fear of the unknown is what scares us. If we saw it coming it wouldn't be quite as frightening. Look at Paranormal Activity. The basics of fear is waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and then when it's about to come, nothing. Then we laugh at ourselves for being so afraid when nothing happens. We chastise ourselves for overreacting, then BOOM! There he stands, ax in hand, and well we scream our throats raw and forget how to run. So the metaphor for life I guess would be that in life we wait and wait for that event to happen that we blow up in our minds. Then when it doesn't happen we breath a sigh of relief, only to have it happen right afterwards. Maybe it is sudden and maybe it just happens slowly and we suddenly realize it.

Most people in horror films are in unfamiliar territory; new house, on a trip, in the woods, or in a dream. They are uneasy because life is uneasy. Something doesn't feel right. Something recently happened. It's the uneasiness of life that leads to the upcoming horror. Anticipation that maybe everything isn't all it seems to be. We've all felt those moments. Maybe an amazing thing just happened to us and we wonder why. What is the reason? And what is going to be the fall-out? Because let's be honest, we expect the other shoe to drop. Even our celebrities, sports heroes, and politicians in their highest moments are expecting that cheering crowd will abandon them at some point. They are usually right. We only appreciate these individuals more after life has thrown them around a little bit, humanized them in our eyes, and let us relate to them. Even if relating requires them to endure a personal hell to get there. Our religions tell us we need to suffer to be rewarded, so we expect those we pay to entertain us, or vote on to lead us, to endure this suffering. If they don't we don't relate, and in this day and age of Facebook, Twitter, TMZ, and self-idolization we NEED to relate.

It's funny that movies that are more powerful to us now have to almost include us in the film. The strength of Paranormal Activity is it could happen to any of us. We can be those people. Unlike older horror films which were more brutal and gruesome in display, we now are more fearful when we are involved. When it is something we see ourselves in. Gone are the days when celebrities were kept in the distance outside of their films by the mainstream media. There are no free passes. No politician will get the breaks that John F. Kennedy got from an adoring press. The public will no longer stand for it. And in fact truth be told, the less we know about the politician's life, the less likely we are to vote for them. The new politician needs to be an open book expressing all their likes, dislikes, dirty laundry, empathy, heart ache, and also their views on Health Care, the Free Trade Agreement, North Korea, and their tax policies. Then we can decide. Yet if we see you windsurfing in Nantucket in a full body suit, sorry bud, that I can't relate to!

So next time you flip on a horror film look for the key elements and appreciate the parallels to our own lives. The psycho killer could just be your eventual termination, or break-up, or loss of a family member (hopefully not by the psycho killer). It is that catastrophic event that can change us and put us off balance. Do we cower in the closet and just count down the minutes to our demise while we hear the killer's steps approaching us? Or do we face the challenge head on like Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween, Neve Campbell in Scream, and Jennifer Anniston in the Leprechaun (ha, horrible horrible film)? That is up to us.

Rebuilding

When a country fails how do they start the reconstruction process? When an ideology or political party gets trounced in the polls how do they re-establish their base and build upon it. When a house is burned down, how does someone determine what the next step should be? Do they move? Do they rebuild? When we face adversity and have to start over in areas of our own lives where do we begin?

In the United States after the Civil War the south was decimated and its reconstruction began. President Lincoln before his assassination favored lenient terms with the southern states during the process which President Andrew Johnson, a southerner himself, was happy to maintain upon Lincoln's death. Many Republicans irate over Lincoln's assassination were not willing to accept the President's lenient terms with the southern states and with large victories in Congress were able to override Johnson's vetoes to their more hardline policies in dealing with the southern states. Many northerners who supported reconstruction moved south to work with freedmen and create Republican governments in the south. They were derisively called carpetbaggers. The white southerners that supported the reconstruction process were called scalawags. And some of the white southerners who started uprising against these new threats to their lifestyles were called the Klu Klux Klan.

In Germany following the World War I the Allies kept a blockade on German ports that kept ships from delivering goods into the country. Many civilians died of starvation during the eight-month blockade before the Treaty of Versailles was signed officially ending the war. The treaty blamed Germany solely for World War I and placed an enormous bill for them to pay as reparations for the war damage. The amount at the time was the equivalent of $64 billion in that day ($778 billion in 2010) payable over 70 years time. Many believed the amount was far too excessive and that the unrest from the reparations led to the power and uprising of Adolf Hitler and the Nazis.

When pushed to extreme situations it seems that people lean towards extreme ideologies. This happened both in the southern United States in 1860's and Germany in the 1930's. History will show us that this has happened in most failed states and policies. One failure leads to the birth of extreme policies and individuals. The foundation for rebuilding in these examples appears to be the loudest voice in the room and the one that fans the populaces anger and pride.

In life we face adversities as well. Our walls of security can collapse and our seemingly prosperous economies can crumble. Sometimes this can be a result of outside forces and sometimes it is strictly of our own doing. When that dull thud ceases and we pass realization and sit alone in our own thoughts, we decide which voice will lead us.

Where do we start? Do we start at faith? Is God the answer? In times of my lowest in life I have prayed for guidance. I am a Christian but seem to only call upon God at my absolute ends when I have not a clue how to get myself out of my own doings. When times are good it is as if I don't even know who God is. I look at God as a lifeline on Who Want's to Be a Millionaire. God is my fourth option after "Phone a Friend" and the "50/50" option have been exhausted. I know when I've prayed and called upon Him that I've been relieved of my pain and given a clearer mind out of the clutter of my own thoughts, but I also know that it is an unbalanced relationship. This makes it harder for me to phone that friend because I'm such a bad friend most of the time and I expect the call isn't going to be answered.

I worry that religion has caused so much of the problems in our world. The same loud voices that swayed the disillusioned masses in the south in the 1860's and Germany in the 1930's have swayed many of minds of the young men and women in the Middle East. The fear and pride angle is preached through in the name of Allah and the end to them justifies the means, even if that means their own death and thousands of innocent lives along with them. Yet it is money again and dire conditions that force the power of the words, even the if the words in normal circumstances don't make any sense at all. Is introducing a capitalist system into those countries the answer? If it is the one we have in place here now I don't know, but again I am not sure if it is the conditions forcing the argument or if I'm just blowing smoke. Four years ago I wasn't concerned about the system and the economics of our world, I just wanted to buy a new car.

When the cats in the way, the mice will play

I’m coming to you live from the SOU Computer Lab. Yes, my first Blog offsite. I’ve written from various rooms in my house on my lap top but I’ve yet to take my blog from those friendly confines of home. It’s a blog away game. Like the Giants playing two games in Philadelphia I had two exams today and yet unlike them I need to leave here 2-0. They can be two bitter C’s, but C’s they gotta B. I’m still a little weary from last night’s game of chase the mouse. Seems I have a bit of vermin problem in mi Casa de Miller.

Last night my cat Wicky burst through the doggie door with his prize. His prize was a ginormous mouse in his mouth and one with some fighting spirit left. I thought cats were supposed to get mice out of your house, not bring them in. Well the bastard not only managed to bring in the live creature but he mouth delivered him straight to my bedroom. Then he proceeded to drop him off and let the games begin. I was reading about the Coliseum and live animal vs. gladiator fights that had transpired there in preparation for a blog I was going to write and had no idea that I too would be thrown into the arena. I darted to my garage for my weapons. My weapons of choice were two fishing nets. Here I was trying to wrangle this vile monster into my net while my cat meowed and hissed as if he were going to actually attack the mouse rather than give him a piggy back ride into my house. I knew better and threw him outside of the room. It was me and the mouse, mano y mano (assuming the mouse was a male).

The mouse dove for cover under the bed as I swiped at it with my net and it hid behind the boxes. When I moved them to get a clean jab the creature glared at me and sprinted to the night stand. I got off the floor and hovered over. I could hear the breathing of the beast as my heart pounded with anticipation of my victory. I lifted the night stand and positioned my net to make my catch. The clever animal bobbed and weaved and eluded my trap. It made a fast break past me and into the closet. There it changed direction from east and west and ventured north, straight up the clothes and onto the side of the closet balancing on a belt rack. I stared eye to eye with the mouse. The black eyes peered at me as my cat pounced through my door and waited below looking up with ferociousness at the waiting prey. Sure, I thought, now you are ready to attack after I did all the work cornering the tiny vermin.

 Suddenly the mouse made a cry of mercy as it knew it was caught. My nets were closing in and it gave me one final look of desperation as it looked down at my awaiting cat as its only other option. I was not swayed and tangled the creature in both nets and made a break for the front door. As I prepared to end its life the imaginary crowd of the Coliseum voiced its opinion, “Live!” I put the nets on the ground out front and watched the mouse untangle itself and flee to safety into the night. Then realized a few moments later the stupid thing will probably just find a way to come back into my house again. Damn!

Feeling good about my merciful victory I proceeded on with the night. About an hour later noises in my kitchen led me to the fridge and upon pointing my flashlight behind it an even larger mouse. Oh man, I thought, the house is infested! Another hour later and this one seemed much better equipped at net dodging. Round two is still underway…..

It's more than a beard

I'm about two weeks in and I'm digging the beginnings of my beard and for more than the appearance. It seems the beard on men has a long, but often sporadic, history. It's been linked to intellectuals and crazies, sometimes they are the same person. It has been used as a phrase for disguising oneself, either one's sexuality or an affair. But, my intentions are no disguise at all. If anything what began as a unity gesture with my favorite baseball team has evolved into a deeper societal message.

 In the 1960's the hippies re-introduced the beard. It had been hiding from society from the early 1900's, through the roaring 20's, our depressed 30's, our World War II fighting 40's, and finally through our "I Love Lucy and My Three Sons" 1950's. It was a revolution after all: Down with the man. The man being society, the corporations, and the government that was initiating Vietnam. It was the culture, free-spirited, marijuana smoking, enlightened, fighting against perceived injustices. There was free love, Woodstock, and iconic music as social policies were being pushed by demonstrations and collective voices for singular causes. It became synonymous with outsider and hippies. Eventually mainstream musicians and actors supportive of those views began their own beard growing as well, but if you look before 1960 you'll be looking for a while.

The first president to sport the beard was Abraham Lincoln, and it was during that time that the beard became linked to intelligence again. Many intellectuals of the time began growing beards. It no longer was rustic though Lincoln had started growing his beard only in 1960 at the request of an 11-year old girl Grace Bedell who wrote to him telling him his face was too thin and that he would win the Presidency if he grew one. Lincoln who had always been clean shaven won the White House and then obliged. His elaborate words and eloquence was added a dose of ruggedness and rural appeal that he had lacked before. Now his image is linked forever to his beard even though he only wore it the last three years of his life in office.

Before Lincoln you would have to go back even further. The most famous beard before Lincoln belonged to one of the world's most menacing pirates Blackbeard in the late 1600's and early 1700's. Before Blackbeard you would have to go back to the Middle Ages and even further to ancient Greece. There the beard was a symbol of the greatest ancient minds: Socrates and Plato. In the movie 300 about Sparta and the men who fought against the Persian Empire in the Battle of Thermopylae some of the men in the film wore beards, including King Leonidas, and yet some did not. But in fact all of the soldiers then would have likely worn beards, as punishment for cowardice the Spartans would shave a man's beard.



King Leonidas in 300

Nowadays we only see beards on television during the playoffs. The San Francisco Giants Brian Wilson's dark beard has brought forth the catch phrase "Fear the Beard". And with his crazy eyes and personality Wilson carries the persona well. I started growing my beard in the same spirit of the playoffs. Then as I walked around the Ashland SOU campus and saw the same counter-culture from the late 1960's and early 70's I realized my beard served a higher purpose. It isn't going to be grown in solidarity with a sports team (well..maybe a little), nor am I going to grow it to fight "the man" i.e. corporations, though that would be a valid fight. Nope, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about women and relationships, about men and society.

I've noticed a lot more women on my Facebook, on television, and everywhere that are no longer into men exclusively or in some cases at all. Some of them are younger and some are not, but it made me think about the way our society has been in the last twenty, thirty years. I don't fault anyone for their sexual preference, and truthfully when given a choice between an emasculated feminized male and a female I understand why women would go with the female version. It's the true version. We've lived in a pretty boy society for the last twenty years. Men have become metro-sexual. Men are more in touch with their feelings. Men are taking more care of their hair and their attire. Some men get manicures. Men are more concerned with their six-pack then ever. They aspire to be the "Situation" or Zack Efron instead of themselves. They've become too concerned with being beautiful themselves then actually appreciating how incredibly beautiful women are. It's no wonder we see more women going bi, or saying bye-bye to men. Men have been making that trip from themselves for the last couple of decades.

I am going to grow my beard because society says that it is not attractive. Because society says it is not polished, that I should look more smooth, more shaven, more feminine. I'm not in competition with women. They will always win based on looks, and I'm grateful for it. It's not about the appearance, it's more than that. I promise that I will not shave it for appearance reasons, but it can be kind of uncomfortable and I'm really only in week two. I imagine it's gonna get worse, but I'll persevere. Of course if a beautiful woman pops into my life and tells me to shave..all bets are off.