Stuck in Wonder

Last night was a birthday party for a friend that I've made here.  She is from France and turned 21 yesterday.  I was under the impression that we were throwing her a surprise party.  Rachel and I helped our other friend from France to make her a cake from scratch (which I never saw again at the party which makes me think it didn't turn out).  I should also preface this little story by saying that the dormitories at JLU are spread out and each one leads somewhat to segregation in the student population.  Obviously my dorm has the coolest people in it and the others can just live with that.  See what I mean.  Anyway, surprise party, right?  No.  

Rachel and I show up to Jeff's dorm area and in the common area are already more people than I thought I knew and more and more people from the summer course kept coming through the door.  Turns out this wasn't a surprise anymore and that about 35, maybe more, out of 55 summer course students plus 4 of out mentors made the trek to come to our dorm building.  Not being very good with large groups of people, I promptly placed myself outside with Victor where we could have pleasany discourse and smoke a pipe.  Topics included The Doors, spirits, pipes, karaoke, Romanian drinking practices, beer and more.  

The real point of my story is the following.  While standing outside watching the people inside talking, I realized that I was in Germany listening to conversations around me in English.  Then I noticed that our mentors and some Russian students were talking in German, while the other Russian students were speaking Russian.  Looking in I saw the kids from Spain speaking Spanish or Catalonian.  I also knew we had several people here from Poland that were gathered together at that moment and I'm sure the birthday girl and the other girls from France happened to be speaking their native tongue at that moment.  It was just a very interesting revelation of what a diverse... I don't know... thing I'm doing.  There were more that 6 languages being spoken in an area no larger than 30 or 40 square meters.  It was cool and gave me pause for a moment.

Kopi Luwak

Ah, the Asian Palm Civet. Who would have thought that man would pay attention enough to the feces of this small mammal to notice the undigested coffee beans? I don't think I would have, but some people did and now for some reason the beans that have passed through this creature are the most expensive in the world. Who in their right mind would purchase these beans, or even a cup of coffee made from said beans before knowing if they would like it or not? Would you slap down fifty greenbacks for a 6oz. cup of Kopi Luwak coffee? I wouldn't. Thankfully, I don't have to now. Yes! It's true. I have now tasted this coffee with my own mouth, almost (being quite figurative here) straight from the Civet's rear. How? My roommate, the equitable Tyler J.S. Cronk has a friend from(or is) Indonesia(n) who gifted us with an entire bag. It may weigh a pound and thus, I was holding somewhere between $120 and $600 worth of Civet crap on Tuesday in my hand. Wow.

So, you're wondering what it tastes like? It has a very different brewing aroma than I'm used to and also has an even stronger smell in my cup. Doing my best to realize that what I'm about to drink has passed through the mouth, stomach, and anus of another animal, I gently sip the concoction. It has a seemingly floral and nutty flavor while at the same time not having either, if you follow me. I can't place it. It was definitely unique. Hold it! It was then that it hit me. After swallowing, I had very little to no coffee taste in my mouth. There was no bitter coffee taste. I was shocked by its strangeness. I sipped again just to make sure I wasn't mad and indeed, after four straight days, I can tell you this coffee does not leave very much taste in your mouth. I was amazed and so went to the Fount of All Knowledge and Wisdom (aka Wikipedia) to find out the reason. Apparently, the Civet's digestive track breaks down the protein responsible for coffee bitterness. Seeing my question answered satisfactorily, I stopped my research and so could be completely wrong. Oh well.

So, is it worthy of the title 'most expensive coffee in the world'? Well, I can see why it would cost so much due to labor and expense, but I don't think it's expensive because it is so frickin' good. It's your standard cup of joe with a different flavor, that's all. So if you're in it for the experience or are trying to impress some hot girls somewhere, go ahead and pay out the nose for a cup. But I don't think you'll be too wowed or amazed.

Fount of All Knowledge and Wisdom Link

What America Means To Me

Baseball, beer, hotdogs, cute girls (who like baseball), peanuts, hot tamales, bottleCaps...that's pretty much what America means to me. And I experienced it all this afternoon and evening. There are few things finer than an evening at a baseball park, watching a baseball game, doing things (i.e. beer, hotdogs, hot tamales, peanuts) that you should do at a baseball game. Who cares if your team didn't win? The game itself and the things that went on during it were awesome, and incredible. The beverages and accoutrements were delightful. I even sat next to a couple that was rooting for the opposing team, and we held meaningful conversation about the game and the teams. Ah! A delight to my soul. I thought you all should know that this weekend has been the greatest of my life...in the past several months.

Oh, and btw, my birthday (since this baseball game was my birthday present) is officially completed for this year. Thanks to all and to those six different beers (seven total) that I had this afternoon.

-bri

Jumbled Thought

If terhe is atninyhg I've lrneaed form my hamun erxeenecpis and htsrioy in gnreael, it's taht plpeoe hvae to do semintohg teslehmevs boerfe tyeh'll tlury urantdesnd. Taht, and taht ppleoe hvae an ucnnany alibtiy to poucrde good berveaegs, thguoh the frmoer is mroe porfunod.

If you wnat to konw waht a book is lkie, no aunomt of pploee tlielng you auobt it can paprere you for wehn you aluatcly raed the book. The smae is ture of food; it dseon't awyals tstae lkie waht you eecxpt. Joreynus and jbos, avnuedetrrs and aritnahcss; teyh're ntihong lkie waht you ecpxet and noihtng lkie waht ppeole try to tlel you auobt tehm brefnaheod. For taht is waht mkeas lfie wrtoh linvig. The erixpecnee. The act of gnianig the klwedonge and exrieencpe frtahnisd is by far a difennig apscet of hmnautiy. God gvein fere wlil.

Adtoaldiinly, in csae you hdan't ntcoied, yuo've been raidneg tihs wtih ervey wrod oevr fuor ltretes msplesiled. How auobt taht?

Summer Saga Pt. 3

Times are grim. Like a rocket that's used up all its fuel before reaching its target, I feel I've exhausted myself in my summer reading. I'm not sure how it happened, but I'm having trouble bringing myself to sit down, relax, and just waste time (if waste it is) reading. Perhaps it's due to Les Miserables, which I finished about two weeks ago. Perhaps it's due to the book I started next, Catch-22, not being what I expected and resulting in a slight let-down. Or perhaps it's simply a phase that I've entered; one where knowledge, relaxation, and enjoyment aren't welcome. I don't know.

Catch-22, while being a term used by myself at least once a week, was to be a new read for me, and I began it shortly after I finished Les Miserables. I confess, though, that I did fit Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency in before I started Heller's book. Catch-22 is an amusing read, as it reminds me of British humor, but without the accent. The dialogue between characters is hilarious and totally outrageous in that it makes no sense, and I like that. The problem I'm having, I believe, stems from the intellectual and all-encompassing literary high I was on from Les Mis. Catch-22 doesn't seem to be going anywhere, and I've decided I don't like it for that reason. I'm not saying it isn't a literary masterpiece, but it just isn't hitting the spot at the moment. I put it aside, but rest assured, I will finish it someday soon. I do not leave books unfinished as it is against my nature to leave anything half done. The bookmark is still in the book.

The summer saga continues then with Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut, my longtime friend and advisor (of course, he doesn't know that and unfortunately, now, won't ever know). Player Piano was his first novel and I can tell that the style is definitely Vonnegut, but has a sense of being different from his later works. It reminds me of a conversation I was having with Utz (also a longtime friend and advisor, and he knows it). We were driving and listening to the classical radio station and he was endeavouring to determine the period the work was from. Little motifs the composer placed in the music could be all you need to tell Baroque from Classical, or Romantic. In the same way, you can see subtle differences in writing style or content of one author from book to book. Vonnegut is one of my favorite authors and it's very cool, to use a ridiculously simple phrase, to see that difference. I highly recommend him.

Labyrinthine

Have you ever had one of those moments where your mind begins fathoming so many topics at once, that time seems to slow? A moment that lasts for several moments, even a gross amount of moments? It's like having one of those garden labyrinths suddenly springing to life inside my mind. I become lost in a tangled trough of trepidation that actually leads to one conclusion, but through multiple paths. They happen frequently to me as of late.

I used to attribute it to daydreaming, but since I wasn't doing anything exciting, like blowing cars up with my mind or flying a really sweet fighter plane, I decided it wasn't daydreaming. I was examining some fact, instance, or event from different angles, calling on past experiences or knowledge of history to further understand the one item I was analyzing. It wasn't quite unlike Victor Hugo in Les Mis - the way he would tangent on some small item of interest that would turn out to change the whole course of events later on. Is that impressive? Who knows? Most people think I'm just zoned out, not listening. Half the time, my thoughts are on something that, in my intense analytical deconstruction, leads me to a very depressing train depot of conclusions. I've learned to not log or record those conclusions. The other times, it's refreshing to be able to come at something from different sides and come to a reasonable decision that I won't regret later.

I'm not sure yet if this is the ultimate way to think, but it seems much more efficient than just having a problem presented to you and guessing, or going with your gut. I'm not saying you can't go with your gut, but there should be some process by which you conclude your gut has the right course of action. Most people these days, in my opinion, don't look before they leap, and people like that die! (metaphysically speaking). You don't even have to do one of these extreme deconstructions, but just use your frakin' head (pardon my BSG language) and common sense. A pity that common sense is not so common, as Voltaire would put it.