The Coffee Chronicles

Okay, now things are getting a little crazy. All I did was browse the major news outlets, and I don't know where to start. In trying to choose from among the most absurd and unbelieveable stories I've seen today, I find I have nothing to say. Shootings in NYC's City Hall, more stupid Kobe Bryant details, California de-Governing, and yay, more killings, not to mention the flap over possible media re-regulation - check out this story over at NPR. Honestly, I'm at a loss for words.

...but don't worry; it won't last long. Hey, at least I'm not ranting about Pat Robertson again.

I shouldn't tell you how much fun I'm having right now. No, really - I'm sure you'd be jealous, leave your job, and want to come over to my house and have fun with me. This would be bad, of course, because I don't have a guest bedroom. Oh, we have an office, if that's what you'd call it; there are two desks, a PC, a paper shredder, and a very pleasant backyard balcony. Believe it or not, there's also a sewing machine, which is way cooler than you think. Oh, and there are also bookshelves, bookshelves, and bookshelves. Of course, we could probably hang out in the kitchen, but there's not much food lying about these days. Or the living room, which is really just the rest of the house with a couch in it. We could watch TV. Seriously - I hear that cable has some excellent programming on during the day; just the other day I saw this great fifteen-minute promo for the Showtime Rotisserie.

Now, that's fun.

Why is it that certain people feel a compelling need to say something at every available opportunity? I know you know what I'm talking about; these people are everywhere, and you probably work with more than one of them. Nervous-mouthed, often loud, and always ready with a catchphrase...to borrow a much hackneyed saying, "Who are these people?" I mean, it's not like there's any solicitation on my part; furthermore, in most cases it seems as if there's not even any obvious motivation on their part. It just simply comes out - walking by you on their way to do something less important, they leave you with a workplace gem:


Note the nervous laugh, also a sure sign of impending mental collapse. Also, for the more succinct:


And finally, my favorite, usually heard upon entering the lab for the day:


Seriously, what is with these people? Perhaps I'm not great at keeping to myself, but at least I don't treat the workplace like the inside of my head; let's keep the private thoughts on the inside, people. Meaningful conversation is at a premium these days, it would seem. Ah, at least I have the world of the blog. Read, don't read - it's up to you. Of course, I think I'd rather you read.

Ever Google yourself? Of course you have - it's a kind of coming-of-Internet-age ritual, a post-modern version of the kind of rush we used to get from finding ourselves in the white pages. Well, I am apparently out-and-about on the web in ways I'd never imagined; from marrying off my only daughter in 1903 to sending my name into space, I'm apparently a one-person news avalanche.* A real personality cult, if you will.

Truth is, I have ideas - trademarks, business plans, schemes for World Domination, etc. - and I'd like to make sure, before setting them into motion, that I'm not stepping on anyone's toes. As it turns out, I'm conducting an informal survey of how many really new ideas I can come up with; so far, the answer is quite approximately zero. So, in addition to showing me how truly humbling a Google search can be, I've managed to delay yet again my imminent takeover of the media world. Know this, though: the revolution will begin with footnotes. Lots of them.

Okay, okay. What I'm actually doing is trying, with no small difficulty, to finish all the grading work I'd set aside for myself this evening.** In truth, I should be in bed right about now. This is not because I'm normally an early-to-bed sort of fellow, but rather because the company there is somewhat more inviting - no offense, of course. I offer this explanation, it should be noted, in full knowledge of the fact that I'm currently exposing how much work I'm Not Doing right now; for this, my pillow mate has my heartfelt, if unspoken, apology. Grading papers is terminally boring work, of course, except for those fleeting moments of brilliance when a student manages to say something unique, inspired, and cogent. As a teacher, I tend to live for those moments. And I think striving to inspire that sort of catharsis in my students is at the root of what drives me to be a better teacher each day.

Perhaps I'd better get back to work, and then to bed.