Life at 3 miles an Hour

Some Monday’s are Monday (-ier) than others. For me that means just a deeper state of melancholy. It’s a point where I‘d rather just disengage and let my headphones and random thoughts lead the way through to a deeper place. With a laptop literally in my lap, Hotel California in my ears, and a far off look on my face, I could sit here in this cushy chair by the window for hours. People come and go, singles, groups, mostly on a mission. I wonder if it’s Monday for them? I’m realizing that most of the Monday-ness comes not from the day but from the days previous or possibly the days to come. What I think I mean is that this Monday melancholy usually comes from the strain of the days before or from the uneasy anticipation of what’s still to come. For me, I think that it is a defense mechanism. It is my body and soul recalibrating either from something or for something. Being naturally the introvert, it usually involves an adjustment from or in anticipation of people vacuum. Peo...

Sitting here in observational mode on another Monday morning brings me to the realization that it is quite possible that anyone who still clings desperately to the theory of evolution as an answer to all that surrounds them has, in all probability, never sat long enough to appreciate their surroundings. That was a long sentence. What I think I mean is that this couldn’t possibly just all happen accidental like. I’m not saying that we don’t evolve. Certainly we do, except for our fashion sense. That seems to be hopelessly stuck in a 50’s through 90’s circle of doom. Take, for example, the idea of diversity. It’s interesting that the more we advocate the acknowledgement and value of the diversity of humanity, we also want to dispute the origin of said diversity. In my humble opinion, diversity is the biggest argument in favor of intelligent design, or as I would put it; God. Think about it, in a place such as Seattle, where there are as many languages and cultures as there are co...

I jumped off of another cliff this weekend. I finished the details and mailed the application to a new chapter in higher education. I’ve been contemplating this for years and wrestling with the actual paperwork for months. Friday morning I took a deep breath and let it slide from my fingers into the waiting hands of the US Postal service. So now it begins……maybe. After all, I haven’t been accepted yet. It’s actually a risk for me to even mention it. How will I answer if, in the Fall, a well meaning friend asks, “whatever happened with….”? The other risk that I’m taking is fulfilling my own law of “decreased brain function”. I have this theory that states that there is a tendency in individuals who are pursuing ever increasing levels of higher education to have ever decreasing brain function. It’s not a law, but I have proposed it as a tendency. I don’t have comprehensive statistical analysis. I do have plenty of personal observation. I had always sworn off returning to scho...

I’ve got a new view this morning. I’m a bit farther down the beach at a new caffeine port. It’s a good choice. I may have a new home. I normally wouldn’t necessarily disclose the exact location at the risk of being accused of selling out to the man (or woman). However, this seems to be a place worth mentioning. My new Monday morning spot seems like it might be hereafter known as Pioneer Coffee Roasting Company. It seems to “have it all” at the moment. It’s got a view totally unobstructed by Metro. It has carefully pulled shots in my test choice of a caramel latte. It has a baby fireplace and the benefit of free wi-fi. It really doesn’t get much better than this. Howard was promising me some free wi-fi time in his recent Starbucks shakeup, but promising and delivering are two different concepts in my book. I’m not very patient, so the home has changed and so have the loyalties. Try as I might to resist this thought, I have come to the realization that I can be bought. I’m ...

The metro is blocking my view this morning. At least it’s blocking some of it. I can’t see the beach, the waves or the gulls. I can’t see the skyline or the mountains for that matter. Lot’s of windows here filled by a hulking, hideous, green and yellow, diesel , double length, people mover idling at the curb. It blocks one view, however it does enhance another. I have to focus on the foreground this morning. I have to look at what is right in front of me for a change. I’m usually not very good at that. It’s ironic because one of my motivations for starting this Monday morning Starbucks routine was so that I would stop for awhile and focus on what is right in front of me. When the background is removed from my view I’m forced to look at the foreground. I have no doubt that I was created more for the foreground than the background. I just prefer the other. Out there I can dream. I can imagine. I can plot and I can scheme. I can envision what is out there and how I can ge...

I’m a meddler. That’s my confession of the day. I’m a meddler. Simply defined, I just can’t bring myself to leave things alone. I am always, relentlessly plotting and scheming a “new way” of doing something. I have an inner built in belief that everything can be improved upon. I’m not bragging, it can actually be quite annoying. It has served me well, this tendency to meddle, in some areas. Engineering and design come to mind. An aptitude to meddle is a valuable commodity there. It pays well and can be highly valued. Not so much by the meddle-e as it is the meddler. It works well where things are seemingly broken. It is just plain annoying where things are already fixed. I’m watching with great interest the meddling that is now reportedly taking place here at Starbucks. Howard is back and charged with the task of meddling them back to the basics of what made them great. That was of course before someone meddled them out of greatness. See that’s what I mean about when ...

I can really get drawn in anytime some media outlet presents one of their “Where are they now?” deals where they go in search of formerly famous celebrities, athletes, and iconic figures of the past. Hearing the tales of what went wrong for them and even sometimes what went right to boost them out of the limelight or maybe their own personal 15 minutes of fame is often very enlightening. I haven’t seen one of these stories in awhile, but I started thinking about them again recently when I stumbled upon an old yearbook. Yearbooks were a brilliant invention. Whoever decided it was a good idea to record, for history sake, the photos of everyone who shared those formative years of ones life should be given due honor. I don’t know their history or how far back they go. Sometimes I imagine unearthing one from prehistoric times, carved entirely on stone, Flintstone –like. I wonder if Davinci provided the yearbook for his graduating class, done entirely in oils. Is there an ancient sc...