The Caffeinated Mind

Insomnia in Waikiki

2012-01-23T00:23:00.000-10:00

I am something right now, but I wouldn't call it "functional."

As you may or may not know, the coffee shop I now work for is having their soft opening tomorrow, I haven't had a day off since January 7. Don't see one in the near future either. I don't mind, this is what I love to do......

Here's the problem...I am plagued by insomnia. I only drink coffee in the am because of this. My mind is just overactive when I try to sleep. Making lists of things I have to do for tomorrow. Going over the things I did today. What I have to do this week. I keep all of this stuff jumbled up in there.

I also live in downtown Waikiki...I mean, smack dab in the middle of it. Across the street is the Waikiki Trade Center, which houses 3 clubs. Diagonal is a rambunctious gay sports bar with open windows. Right next door, Cha Cha Cha's Mexican Cantina with over 100 tequilas. On any given night this place is party central. And I live on the 14th floor of the side that faces all the noise...which travels up and is amplified. Did I mention the clubs stay open 'til 4am. Right about the time my first alarm goes off. The mating calls of the "whooo" girls, techno music ,bar fights, drunken revelers, drag queens, sirens, burnouts, horns. Even the stronger than normal trade winds rattle the lanai glass doors like the hurricanes do back home, causing even more anxiety fueled sleeplessness...

................................................

Last night, some dick was on a bull horn(at least it sounded like it) after midnight giving what sounded like a political speech...he went on for nearly an hour.

.......................................

Last night: 2.5 hrs of sleep.

........................................

Mid-afternoon nap 2.0 hrs of sleep.

Tick Tock...I hear the clock...ticking away...I have to be up at 3:45am.

.......................................

Please, God, let there be a nap in my future.

Afternoon Delight

2012-01-22T00:02:00.001-10:00

Damn that late afternoon espresso..it is like the Che Guevara in my revolution against sleep.

Popped our coffee cherry...we did.

2012-01-21T22:58:00.002-10:00

On a hike to Maunawili Falls on the windward side of O'ahu, we came to an old coffee grove...the trees were thin under the dense canopy but easy to identify by their shiny waxy leaves. We found some had green cherries attached to their scrawny branches.

We searched for a while trying to find one with a ripe red cherry. How our behavior must have looked to passerby's makes me laugh now. Probably as bizarre as I look when I play in the snow.

Spotted bits of red in the lush green landscape...where the canopy allowed more sunlight to pass though. Wild coffee, long since abandoned...unkempt yet beautiful.

We snapped a few pictures...popped a few in our mouth and headed up the mountain with renewed vigor.

Rise like the Phoenix from the ashes...

2012-01-21T22:35:00.000-10:00

The Birth(or Rebirth) of Pono Roasters

We chose the Phoenix to represent our coffee roasting business' rebirth. The Phoenix's ability to be reborn from its own ashes seemed very àpropos. Our path, fraught with obstacles yet we emerged from the cinders stronger.

"It's best to have failure happen early in life, It wakes up the Phoenix bird in you so you rise from the ashes." - Anne Baxter

"Success wouldn't taste so good, without failure as an appetizer." -from a fortune cookie

Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat?

2012-01-21T19:41:00.000-10:00

I haven't had much time to blog lately...a lot has happened in the past 9 months. Our coffee shop closed after a long ten year run. We really tried to make it work...tried everything, even radio advertising, shameless self promoting, begging and even a guilt trip or two. In the end, it was just sheer exhaustion that finally did us in. We were over worked, under paid and heading into our slow season. We decided we needed a change...we made plans to sell everything and go back to long haul truck driving. We used to drive truck when we first got married...for 3 1/2 years, we traveled the country. 46 states. Quite an adventure. We would reminisce about our gypsy days. It had to be better than our current situation. At least we would be out seeing stuff...instead of SSDD. We were telling all of our friends and family of our new plan, half thought we were giving up, the other half though we had gone nutters. So we started making our exit plan.

My brother, Eric, heard of our plans and called us up. He lives in Hawaii and suggested we sell everything, ship our coffee roaster to Hawaii and give it a go out there...Hawaii? Hmm, yeah, that sounds like a dream...could we really do that? Nah..But the more we thought about it, the more we felt like we just couldn't pass up the opportunity. So, we did some research...Florida's unemployment rate was 15%, nearing 20% in our county. Hawaii's unemployment rate was only 6%. We would have to go into debt even more than we already were, just to start trucking again...not to mention, we would have to work for a crappy company for at least 6 months before we could team drive together...trucking was looking less like a good idea and thoughts of Hawaii filled our minds. We started watching the new "Hawaii 5-0" series we had saved up on our dvr...it was funny that we hadn't had a chance to watch them yet and we had a whole entire season saved....Well, that's what did it. I can't even remember what the story lines were...we just watched the scenery and daydreamed of paradise...that's all she wrote. Made selling all our stuff for pennies on the dollar less painful..Made closing the business less painful. We had a renewed excitement for what the future held.

That was the hottest damn summer ever...business equipment sales, moving sales, garage sales, craigslist sales, even sold our prize possession comic.

Painful. Very painful. Had to be pried from my hands. But, it was what funded our trip, shipped the roaster and financed for our fresh start. August 15...we arrived in Hawaii. We were home.

We had a month or so to explore the island while we looked for jobs. Finally found a coffee consulting job for the both of us. Pay wasn't that great but we got to move into the same building we worked in. 14th floor.

Elevator commute to work. Office. Company credit card. And the opportunity to co-manage the cafe when it opened. 401k, profit sharing, health insurance, vacation time(what is that?) Truly a dream job.

We are roasting again.

Blessed to find a place to set up the coffee roaster. We share a space with another coffee roaster. They are a pretty big deal coffee company in Honolulu. Been here for years. We set up our baby roaster right next to his ginormous monstrosity of a roaster. Started the business in Hawaii...it was too easy. No bureaucracy, no red tape, no hoops to jump though. Wha???

The trying times, the sadness of business failure, the uncertainty...all for this. We are blessed.

Faith in God.

Fearlessness.

A little stupid courage.

A whole lotta moxie.

Two haoles living pono...it was NOT "all for naught".

Just Kraken Jokes

2011-05-18T10:01:00.002-10:00

'You're Kraken me up, Comedy Squid.'

I will laugh about this pun...

F-O-R-E-V-E-R

Coffee is...

2011-05-14T03:53:00.003-10:00

Over second and third cups flow matters of high finance, high state, common gossip and low comedy. Coffee is a social binder, a warmer of tongues, a soberer of minds, a stimulant of wit and a foiler of sleep if you want it so.

But, always remember....

"Fighting Radicalism with Radicalism"

2010-09-08T16:08:00.000-10:00

Terry Jones. Stunt Master Extraordinaire.

Why are we giving this wackadoo one second of news coverage? The press won't shut up about his threats to burn the Qu'ran on 9/11 and everyone else, from generals to cabinet members, is piping in with their own comments. No one is talking about who this guy is...here's some wikipedia highlights.

"Terry Jones founded and led the Christliche Gemeinde Köln, a church in Cologne, Germany from 1981 to 2008, initially as a branch of the Dove World Outreach Center. Jones was released from the leadership of the Christliche Gemeinde Köln in 2008 due to untenable theological statements and craving for recognition. He and his wife left Germany after one of their three adult children, along with a former church elder, accused them of financial and labor abuses. The Dove Word Outreach Center is funded by TS & Company, a furniture shipping business owned by the church, which buys vintage pieces from Europe and sells them at profit in the U.S. The workforce is comprised of the Jones's disciples, who work for no wages and live cost-free in rundown properties owned by the Joneses.... The DWOC currently maintains a boarding school in Gainesville. According to the Gainsville Sun, students are prohibited from outside and family contact and work without compensation selling, packing, and shipping furniture for TS and Company."

Now that we've shed some light on this wackadoo's history with the DWOC, let's check out his long list of radical stunts. Good ol' wikipedia.

"In 2009, DWOC posted a sign printed in large red letters "Islam is of the Devil" Another sign was posted showing a Muslim man hanging a Christian...Also in 2009, members of the church sent their children to the new school year with t-shirts saying on the front "Jesus answered I am the way and the truth and the life; no one goes to the Father except through me. I stand in trust with Dove Outreach Center." and on the back "Islam is of the Devil"... In March 2010, DWOC posted a video which decried the possibility of an openly-gay mayor. It also posted a sign saying "No Homo Mayor". "

DWOC=cult
Terry Jones=delusional cult leader and all around asshat.
Media=*sigh* The media really "screwed the pooch" on this one...you have not only exposed the nutbag but you have given him his pulpit from which to preach. You've given his cause a worldwide audience. If anyone has placed our troops in harms way, it is the media's coverage of this story.

In your face, Darwin!

2010-09-06T13:31:00.000-10:00

The intricate design of a simple butterfly egg.

To see more butterfly eggs : http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2010/09/insect-eggs/oeggerli-photography

Butterfly Driveby

2010-09-06T13:13:00.000-10:00

Our citrus trees took one helluva hit from the orange dog caterpillers. Every day we'd have to go and pick off the butterfly eggs , because if we didn't, they would hatch and start munching our tasty green citrus leaves. Now, if this was a large tree I wouldn't even care, but a few orange dogs can devour an entire plant in a few days. They love the new tender foilage. *nom nom* These ugly caterpillars look like something out of Frank Herbert's Dune. It mimics bird droppings to avoid getting eaten. Yum. Now, eventually they do turn into the most beautiful butterflies, the Giant Swallowtail butterfly.

But I sure wish they would go find something else to eat besides my little sappling citrus trees.

Don't eat my plants, you lil' turd!

Image via Wikipedia

Coffee Composting: Do something good for the planet and each other.

2010-09-05T10:24:00.004-10:00

Dax has been collecting our coffee grounds and other kitchen scraps from the coffeeshop for quite a few years. He has become quite the coffee composting nazi. Don't let him catch you throwing out something compostable. He swears by the coffee enhanced soil and the added benefits to his fruit trees and other garden veggies. I knew coffee was good for so many uses but today, my husband seems a little less crazy...

The Ground to Ground initiative shows us how we can make a tangible difference to our environment...one cup at a time.

Here is some pics of Dax's compost barrels, some pictures of the composting process and the end result ...black coffee soil. Also included a few pics of his garden goodies grown with composted coffee grounds...mostly new plantings, many fruit trees...that will fruit next year. *fingers crossed*

Dax's compost barrel made from recycle calamata olive barrels.

Stage 1: Fill barrel 1/2 full with coffee, filters, tea bags, kitchen scraps(mostly romaine lettuce, tomato bits, onion skins and leaves.

Stage 2: After a couple of months of decompostition it starts to look like something.... rich, soily goodness.

Stage 3: This is the final product... mix this with some peat and/or top soil.

Here's some pictures of figs, blueberries and pomegranates growing in Dax's coffee enriched soil.

Our crazy key lime tree on the left...it was attacked by Orange Dog caterpillers. Butterflies apparently love the coffee! On the right is the complete circle...ground to ground to ground, a coffee tree growing in coffee laced soil. It is suffering from heat exhaustion in the florida summer.

The growing season is coming to an end...this summer was brutal..hottest summer on record. After one of the coldest and longest winters on record. Hopefully next year, we can have a more bountiful crop and put this coffee soil to the test.

Saving the world, one cup at a time.

"Build the mosque."

2010-08-31T16:03:00.002-10:00

"Build the mosque." (as seen on a friend's recent status update on facebook)

Such a pure simple statement.

"Build the mosque." Period.
Not a question mark.
Not an exclamation point.

It is all just a distraction anyways. To keep us from realizing the whole God damned country is going to pot. And fast. Freedom of religion is just what it is. Just because someone is completely void of empathy and chooses to put a mosque a ground zero doesn't void their right to do so. End.Of.Story. It's the Constitution, folks. We can't pick and choose what parts we want to follow and what parts we just decide *meh* to disregard. Freedom. Period. Don't allow even the smallest incursion upon it. Or one day, you might wake up in an Orwellian nightmare...telling your grandchildren, "Back in my day, we had this thing called 'freedom'."...and then the Thought Police will come to take you away.

If you know anything about magic and magicians, they often use a very effect technique called 'sleight of hand' That's all this is is sleight of hand..."Hey, look at this?" "Muslims are building a mosque at Ground Zero!!!" etc, is what everyone is focused on. To distract from what is really important...the state of our country and our crumbling economy. If the sheeple keep fighting over these polarizing topics that are obviously protected by the Constitution...they will be too busy arguing to notice what is not being talked about. "What is that magician doing with his other hand?" "What are we not seeing?" If we are divided, we can never unite to repair what is obviously broken.

Marriage, the first 30 years is the hardest part.

2010-08-20T08:51:00.001-10:00

Coffeeshop conversation..
ME: So, how long have you been married?
MALE CUSTOMER: Long enough that I don't look both ways before crossing the street.
*awkward silence*
*nervous laughter*

Wake up and smell the coffee...

2010-07-31T20:06:00.000-10:00

Wake up and smell the coffee....Want to save traditional marriage? Give everyone the freedom to marry.

The writers of our constitution and declaration of independence, free from british tyranny, set out with one goal: To ensure our freedom. We must fight for the personal freedoms of everyone, gay or straight.. We cannot stand by and watch a group of people be denied their civil rights.

For most people, marriage would be considered "in the pursuit of happiness." The United States Supreme Court, in recognizing that marriage is a fundamental right, stated that "the freedom to marry has long been recognized as one of the vital personal rights essential to the orderly pursuit of happiness by free men” and a “basic civil right.”

If any part of the Constitution is unclear and ambiguous, it is because the courts have made a concerted effort to explain it away.

Last year, the Iowa State Supreme Court ruled that under the state's constitution, gay and lesbian couples should be entitled to the institution of marriage. Iowa became the third state (behind Massachusetts and Connecticut) to recognize marriage equality.

Wonderfully, awesome Iowa!

Congratulations, David & Kyle. "The thing that counts most in the pursuit of happiness is choosing the right companion."

"Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving. To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy." " ~ Kahlil Gibran

Are You a Coffee Bean?

2010-07-27T08:59:00.002-10:00

Are You a Coffee Bean?

   A daughter complained to her father about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of all the fighting and struggling. It seemed as though in solving one problem, two more would arise.
   Her father, a chef, took her to the kitchen. He filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to a boil. In one he placed carrots, in the second he placed eggs, and in the last he placed ground coffee beans. He let them sit and boil without saying a word. The daughter impatiently waited, wondering what he was doing. In about twenty minutes, he turned off the burners. He fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. He turned off the burners. He fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. He pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then he ladled the coffee out and poured it in a cup.
   Turning to her, he asked. "Darling, what do you see?" "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied. He brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. He then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, he asked her to sip the coffee.
   She smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. She humbly asked,"What does it mean Father?" He explained that each of them had faced the same adversity, boiling water, but each reacted differently. The carrots went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. But after being subjected to the boiling water , they softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. it's thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But after sitting though the boiling water, the insides became hardened. however, the ground coffee beans were unique. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.
   "Which are you?" he asked his daughter.

   When problems knock on your door, how do you respond?

   Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?

...star wars

2010-07-25T12:23:00.001-10:00

You know you are a Star Wars geek when....

Source: Decaffeinated Coffee by Chuck Harrison

http://www.dcstrip.com/

Come to the Dark Side....we have naptime!

Stupid, stupid clone.

Image by daveknapik via Flickr

...fair trade

2010-07-25T12:08:00.000-10:00

...support groups

2010-07-25T11:40:00.000-10:00

Carnivores for the win!!!!

...cellphones

2010-07-25T11:33:00.000-10:00

From the caffeinated mind of Shannon Wheeler

Regret

2010-07-15T16:45:00.000-10:00

Looked down at my empty coffee cup and reminisced a time when I was sipping it in all of it's glory.

"A Message To Garcia"

2010-06-21T13:55:00.000-10:00

"A Message To Garcia"

Foreword

This literary trifle, A Message To Garcia, was written one evening after supper, in a single hour. It was on the 22nd of February, 1899, Washington's Birthday: we were just going to press with the March Philistine.

The thing leaped hot from my heart, written after a trying day, when I had been endeavoring to train some rather delinquent villagers to abjure the comatose state and get radioactive.

The immediate suggestion, though, came from a little argument over the teacups, when my boy Bert suggested that Rowan was the real hero of the Cuban War. Rowan had gone alone and done the thing - carried the message to Garcia.

It came to me like a flash! Yes, the boy is right, the hero is the man who does his work - who carries the message to Garcia. I got up from the table, and wrote A Message To Garcia. I thought so little of it that we ran it in the Magazine without a heading. The edition went out, and soon orders began to come for extra copies of the March Philistine, a dozen, fifty, a hundred, and when the American News Company ordered a thousand, I asked one of my helpers which article it was that stirred up the cosmic dust. "It's the stuff about Garcia," he said.

The next day a telegram came from George H. Daniels, of the New York Central Railroad thus, "Give price on one hundred thousand Rowan article in pamphlet form - Empire State Express advertisement on back - also how soon can ship."
I replied giving price, and stated we could supply the pamphlets in two years. Our facilities were small and a hundred thousand booklets looked like an awful undertaking.

The result was that I gave Mr. Daniels permission to reprint the article in his own way. He issued it in booklet form in editions of half a million. Two or three of these half-million lots were sent out by Mr. Daniels, and in addition the article was reprinted in over two hundred magazines and newspapers. It has been translated into all written languages.

At the time Mr. Daniels was distributing A Message To Garcia, Prince Hilakoff, Director of Russian Railways, was in this country. He was the guest of the New York Central, and made a tour of the country under the personal direction of Mr. Daniels. The Prince saw the little book and was interested in it, more because Mr. Daniels was putting it out in big numbers, probably, than otherwise. In any event, when he got home he had the matter translated into Russian, and a copy of the booklet given to every railroad employee in Russia.

Other countries then took it up, and from Russia it passed into Germany, France, Spain, Turkey, Hindustan and China. During the war between Russia and Japan, every Russian soldier who went to the front was given a copy of A Message To Garcia. The Japanese, finding the booklets in possession of the Russian prisoners, concluded it must be a good thing, and accordingly translated it into Japanese.

And on an order of the Mikado, a copy was given to every man in the employ of the Japanese Government, soldier or civilian. Over forty million copies of A Message To Garcia have been printed. This is said to be a larger circulation than any other literary venture has ever attained during the lifetime of an author, in all history - thanks to a series of lucky accidents.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"A Message To Garcia"

by Elbert Hubbard 1899

In all this Cuban business there is one man stands out on the horizon of my memory like Mars at perihelion.

When war broke out between Spain and the United States it was very necessary to communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was somewhere in the mountain vastness of Cuba - no one knew where. No mail nor telegraph message could reach him. The President must secure his cooperation, and quickly. What to do! Some one said to the President, "There's a fellow by the name of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if anybody can."

Rowan was sent for and given a letter to be delivered to Garcia. How "the fellow by the name of Rowan" took the letter, sealed it up in an oil-skin pouch, strapped it over his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of Cuba from an open boat, disappeared into the jungle, and in three weeks came out on the other side of the Island, having traversed a hostile country on foot, and delivered his letter to Garcia - are things I have no special desire now to tell in detail. The point that I wish to make is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, "Where is he at?"

By the Eternal! there is a man whose form should be cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in every college of the land. It is not book-learning young men need, nor instruction about this and that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies: do the thing - "Carry a message to Garcia!"

General Garcia is dead now, but there are other Garcias. No man who has endeavored to carry out an enterprise where many hands were needed, but has been well-nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the average man - the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and do it.

Slipshod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifference, and half-hearted work seem the rule; and no man succeeds, unless by hook or crook or threat he forces or bribes other men to assist him; or mayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, and sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant.

You, reader, put this matter to a test: You are sitting now in your office - six clerks are within call. Summon any one and make this request: "Please look in the encyclopedia and make a brief memorandum for me concerning the life of Correggio." Will the clerk quietly say, "Yes, sir," and go do the task?

On your life, he will not. He will look at you out of a fishy eye and ask one or more of the following questions: Who was he? Which encyclopedia? Where is the encyclopedia? Was I hired for that? Don't you mean Bismarck? What's the matter with Charlie doing it? Is he dead? Is there any hurry? Sha'n't I bring you the book and let you look it up yourself? What do you want to know for?

And I will lay you ten to one that after you have answered the questions, and explained how to find the information, and why you want it, the clerk will go off and get one of the other clerks to help him try to find Garcia - and then come back and tell you there is no such man. Of course I may lose my bet, but according to the Law of Average, I will not.

Now, if you are wise, you will not bother to explain to your "assistant" that Correggio is indexed under the C's, not in the K's, but you will smile very sweetly and say, "Never mind," and go look it up yourself. And this incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, this infirmity of the will, this unwillingness to cheerfully catch hold and lift -these are the things that put pure Socialism so far into the future.

If men will not act for themselves, what will they do when the benefit oftheir effort is for all?

A first-mate with knotted club seems necessary; and the dread of getting "the bounce" Saturday night holds many a worker to his place. Advertise for a stenographer, and nine out of ten who apply can neither spell nor punctuate - and do not think it necessary to. Can such a one write a letter to Garcia?
        "You see that bookkeeper," said the foreman to me in a large factory. "Yes, what about him?" "Well he's a fine accountant, but if I'd send him up town on an errand, he might accomplish the errand all right, and on the other hand, might stop at four saloons on the way, and when he got to Main Street would forget what he had been sent for." Can such a man be entrusted to carry a message to Garcia?
     "We have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy expressed for the downtrodden denizens of the sweat-shop" and the "homeless wanderer searching for honest employment", "and with it all often go many hard words for the men in power".
      Nothing is said about the employer who grows old before his time in a vain attempt to get frowsy ne'er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and his long, patient striving after "help" that does nothing but loaf when his back is turned.
     In every store and factory there is a constant weeding-out process going on. The employer is constantly sending away "help" that have shown their incapacity to further the interests of the business, and others are being taken on. No matter how good times are, this sorting continues: only, if times are hard and work is scarce, the sorting is done finer - but out and forever out the incompetent and unworthy go. It is the survival of the fittest. Self-interest prompts every employer to keep the best - those who can carry a message to Garcia.
      I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability to manage a business of his own, and yet who is absolutely worthless to any one else, because he carries with him constantly the insane suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intending to oppress, him. He cannot give orders; and he will not receive them. Should a message be given him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably be, "Take it yourself!"
      Tonight this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind whistling through his threadbare coat. No one who knows him dare employ him, for he is a regular firebrand of discontent. He is impervious to reason, and the only thing that can impress him is the toe of a thick-soled Number Nine boot.
      Of course I know that one so morally deformed is no less to be pitied than a physical cripple; but in our pitying, let us drop a tear, too, for the men who are striving to carry on a great enterprise, whose working hours are not limited by the whistle, and whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle to hold in line dowdy indifference, slipshod imbecility, and the heartless ingratitude which, but for their enterprise, would be both hungry and homeless.
     Have I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I have; but when all the world has gone a-slumming I wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who succeeds - the man who, against great odds, has directed the efforts of others, and having succeeded, finds there's nothing in it: nothing but bare board and clothes. I have carried a dinner pail and worked for day's wages, and I have also been an employer of labor, and I know there is something to be said on both sides. There is no excellence, per se, in poverty; rags are no recommendation; and all employers are not rapacious and high-handed, any more than all poor men are virtuous. My heart goes out to the man who does his work when the "boss" is away, as well as when he is at home. And the man who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly takes the missive, without asking any idiotic questions, and with no lurking intention of chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught else but deliver it, never gets "laid off" nor has to go on a strike for higher wages. Civilization is one long anxious search for just such individuals. Anything such a man asks shall be granted. He is wanted in every city, town and village - in every office, shop, store and factory. The world cries out for such: he is needed and needed badly - the man who can "Carry a Message to Garcia."

So who will send a letter to Garcia?

Giant Moth Approved!!

2010-06-20T13:39:00.014-10:00

What the...?!?!

Ode to boredom

2010-06-19T15:28:00.003-10:00

My ennui is at an all time whatever.

Truly Amazing Spiderman...

2010-06-19T12:53:00.007-10:00

Amazing Spiderman Vol. 2 Issue #36

This is one of the best single comics ever. Just reread it after a long time. It was the first issue after Sept. 11. Here is a reprint of the commentary as Spiderman views the devastation and aftermath.....

Follow the sounds of sirens...

Some things are beyond words.

Beyond comprehension.

Beyond forgiveness.

How do you say we didn't know? We couldn't know. We couldn't imagine. Only madmen could contain the thought, execute the act, fly the planes. The sane world will always be vulnerable to madmen, because we cannot go where they go to conceive of such things.

We could not see it coming. We could not be here before it happened. We could not stop it.

But we are here now.

You cannot see us for the dust, but we are here.

You cannot hear us for the cries, but we are here.

Even those we thought our enemies are here. Because some things surpass rivalries and borders. Because the story of humanity is written not in towers but in tears. In the common coin of blood and bone. In the voice that speaks within even the worst of us, and says

THIS IS NOT RIGHT.

Because even the worst of us, however scarred, are still human. Still feel. Still mourn the random death of innocents.

We are here.

But with our costumes and our powers we are writ small by the true heroes. Those who face fire without fear or armor. Those who step into the darkness without assurances of ever walking out again, because they know there are others waiting in the dark.

Awaiting salvation.

Awaiting word.

Awaiting justice.

Ordinary men. Ordinary women. Made extraordinary by acts of compassion. And courage. And terrible sacrifice. Ordinary men. Ordinary women. Refusing to surrender. Ordinary men. Ordinary women. Refusing to accept the self-serving proclamations of holy warriors of every stripe, who announce that somehow we had this coming. We reject them both in the knowledge that our tragedy is greater than the sum of our transgressions.

Bodies in free fall on the evening news. Madness in mosques, shouting down fourteen centuries of earnest prayers, forgetting the lessons of crusades past...that the most harmed are the least deserving. There are no words. There are no words. The death of innocents and the death of innocence. Rage compounded upon rage. Rage enough to blot out the Sun. And the air, filled with questions.

They ask the question,

Why?

My God, Why?

I have seen other worlds. Other spaces. I have walked with gods and wept with angels. But to my shame I have no answers. He's the only one who could know. because he's been here before. I wish I had not lived to see this once. I can't imagine what it is to see this twice. I just can't imagine. What DO we tell the children? Do we tell them evil is a foreign face? No. The evil is the thought behind the face, and it can look just like yours. Do we tell them evil is tangible, with defined borders and names and geometries and destinies? No. They will have nightmares enough. Perhaps we tell them that we are sorry. Sorry that we were not able to deliver unto them the world we wished them to have. That our eagerness to shout is not the equal of our willingness to listen. That the burdens of distant people are the responsibility of all men and women of conscience, or their burdens will one day become our tragedy. Or perhaps we simply tell them that we love them, and that we will protect them. That we would give our lives for theirs and do it gladly, so great is the burden of our love. In a universe of Gameboys and dvds, it is, perhaps, an insubstantial gift. But it is the only one that will wash away the tears and knit the wounds and make the world a sane place to live in.

We could not see it coming. No one could. We could not stop it. No one could. But we are here. Now.

With you.

Today.

Tomorrow.

And the day after.

We live in each blow you strike for infinite justice, but always in the hope of infinite wisdom. Because we live as well in the quiet turning of your considered conscience.

The voice that says

ALL WARS HAVE INNOCENTS.

The voice that says

YOU ARE A KIND AND MERCIFUL PEOPLE.

The voice that says

DO NOT AS THEY DO, OR THE WAR IS LOST BEFORE IT IS EVEN BEGUN.

Do not let that knowledge be washed away in blood. When you move, we will move with you. Where you go, we will go with you. Where you are, we are in you. Because the future belongs to ordinary men and ordinary women, and that future must be built free of such acts as these, must be fought for and renewed like fresh water. Because a message must be sent to those who mistake compassion for weakness. A message sent across six thousand years of recorded blood and struggle. And this message is this: Whatever our history, whatever our the root of our surnames, we remain a good and decent people, and we do not bow down and we do not give up. The fire of the human spirit cannot be quenched by bomb blast or body counts. Cannot be intimidated forever into silence or drowned by tears. We have endured worse before; we will bear this burden and all that comes hereafter, because that's what ordinary men and women do. No matter what. This has not weakened us. It has only made us stronger. In recent years we as a people have been tribalized and factionized by a thousand casual unkindnesses. But in this we are one. Flags sprout in uncommon places. The ground made fertile by tears and shared resolve. We have become one in our grief. We are now one nation in our determination. One as we recover. One as we rebuild.

You wanted to send a message, and in so doing you awakened us from our self-involvement. Message received. Look for your reply in the thunder.

In such days as these are heroes born.

Not heroes such as ourselves. The true heroes of the twenty-first century.

You, the human being singular.

You, who are nobler than you know and stronger than you think.

You, the heroes of this moment chosen out of history.

We stand blinded by the light of your unbroken will. Before that light, no darkness can prevail. They knocked down two tall towers. In their memory, draft a covenant with your conscience, that we will create a world in which such things need not occur. A world which will not require apologies to children, but also a world whose roads are not paved with the husks of their inalienable rights.

They knocked down two tall towers. Graft now their echo onto your spine. Become girders and glass, stone and steel, so that when the world sees YOU, it sees THEM. And stand tall. Stand Tall.

STAND TALL.

Captain America quotes Mark Twain and inspires.

2010-06-19T12:52:00.005-10:00

Inspiration in Marvel Comics Civil War series.

So far in the Civil War we've seen Captain America at his best and possibly worst occasionally. He's been beaten by his old friend the Iron Man and saw tragedy, but continues to keep up the good fight for freedom in the Marvel Universe.

The cause of the Civil War, the death of school children after a villain named Nitro literally explodes during a battle with the New Warriors. This event creates public uproar leading to the Super-human Registration Act which enforced the mandatory registration of super powered individuals with the government. Failure to comply meant being imprisoned in the Negative Zone in an inescapable prison. Iron Man and Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four stand by the Act fighting against heroes like Captain America who oppose the Act.

At first Spider-Man sided with Iron Man against Cap, but later realized he was on the wrong side and went public with his decision to go against the Registration Act.

We all know that sometimes the worst times can bring out the best in us, and the Civil War has allowed us to see a glimpse of Captain America's fighting spirit and sense of right and wrong.

The most revealing and inspirational moment from Cap I've found so far in the Civil War storyline comes not from Captain America's book, but Amazing Spider-Man # 537.

On a rooftop, (Where else do superheroes talk?) Spider-Man points out to Cap that most of America has Cap down as a traitor. Spidey then just wants to know how Cap deals with it. Cap turns away and says,

"I remember the first time I really understood what it was to be an American...What it was to be a patriot."

"I was just a kid...A million years ago, it seems sometimes. Maybe twelve. I was reading Mark Twain. And he wrote something that struck me right down to my core...something so powerful, so true, that it changed my life. I memorized it so I could repeat it to myself, over and over across the years. He wrote --'In a republic, who is the country?

Is it the government which is for the moment in the saddle? Why, the government is merely a temporary servant: it cannot be its prerogative to determine what is right and what is wrong, and decide who is a patriot and who isn't. It's function is to obey orders, not originate them.

Who, then is the country? Is it the newspaper? Is it the pulpit? Why, these are mere parts of the country, not the whole of it, they have not command, they have only their little share in the command.

In a monarchy, the king and his family are the country: In a republic it is the common voice of the people each of you, for himself, by himself and on his own responsibility, must speak.

It is a solemn and weighty responsibility, and not lightly to be flung aside at the bullying of pulpit, press, government, or the empty catchphrases of politicians.

Each must for himself alone decide what is right and what is wrong, and which course is patriotic and which isn't. You cannot shirk this and be a man.

To decide it against your convictions is to be an unqualified and inexcusable traitor, both to yourself and to your country, let men label you as they may.

If you alone of all the nation shall decide one way, and that way be the right way according to your convictions of the right, you have your duty by yourself and by your country. Hold up your head. You have nothing to be ashamed of'."

Cap continues, "Doesn't matter what the press says. Doesn't matter what the politicians or the mobs say. Doesn't matter if the whole country decides that something wrong is something right.

This nation was founded on one principle above all else: The requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter the odds or the consequences. When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree besides the river of truth, and tell the whole world--

--No,you move."

I guess I'm getting old and sentimental, but I swear sitting there reading a Spider-Man comic book of all things, I felt like I could almost shed a tear.

This is what heroes are all about whether real or imagined, the ability to inspire.

**REPOST** from http://captain-america.us/articles/civil-war.htm

2010-01-30T08:19:00.001-10:00

Severe caffeine crash...I actually miss work for the unlimited coffee supply.

Coffee is my drug of choice!!!!!!

2009-10-18T09:36:00.001-10:00

Ode to Caffeine...

2009-09-07T16:50:00.000-10:00

I think I have found my theme song.... *Coffee Girl Rocks!!!*

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fLzNV0DiRc

What's Brewin'?

2009-08-24T16:08:00.001-10:00

Image via Wikipedia

*Insert witty, coffee-fueled blog here* Welcome!!! Time to look into the mind of the super caffeinated queen of the bean....be very afraid. My new project......this is a test of my ability to follow thru with something. Wish me luck!!!