Daily self-actualizations before 9 AM
Coffee is interesting, isn’t it.
Only farmable in a belt around the planet, producing two different largely unique categories of beans, Africans and Central Americans. Harvested by those who haven’t tried it themselves, despite a lifetime relied upon the plant. Further diverged by time, place, & intensity of the roast.
Thoughts quickly lost upon the realization of the time. 8:38 AM and the only thing motivating me lies downstairs, requiring more prep time than I’ll spend getting ready for the day.
Half heartedly making my way down the off white carpeted stairs, supported by the all to overused wooden banister, I prepare the for coming endeavor.
“We should really re-finish this banister”, I yell towards my blissfully quiet roommates shut doors. The emphasis on the “we”, or as Jon & Bryan have come to understand it as, “Y’all”.
I reach for the Guatemalan Beans, give it a shake, no dice. Typical, I probably should have never taught them how to make the good stuff. Ethiopian it is.
Spending two of every four weeks a month 2,000 miles away from your home gives way to missing seemingly normal events. But it provides context that allows you to make time for what you care about. The ever depleting bag of your favorite roast, upkeep of the place you call home, and 2 AM Bourbons with a side of goodfellas.
Quick mental math, or lack their of, has me arrive at 14 Grams of the “Citrus, Herbs, and bitter greens” contained in the unground beans, with a cup and a half of water. Better double that incase someone upstairs smells it being brewed.
If only everything in life had a simple formula to bring about joy. On second thought, precise calculations and adaptations that keep you on your toes are life’s proving grounds. Making calculated, not blind nor harsh, decisions allows you to witness the very potential our parents told us we contained. These completed decisions on the metaphorical proving grounds, provides experiences from which to learn, and if anything prove to yourself your capabilities.
The kettles high pitched whistle, as if it’s angry at what ever thought was taking my attention away from itself, informs me it’s too hot. Ah well, to the Chemex with it. Three and a half minutes later coffee is ready, and being distributed to the now awake roommates.
“Too bitter.” Jon yells in half-awaken disgust.
“I apologize for not delivering the nectar of the gods themselves.” I retort.
“Try harder” the last words I hear while filling my lungs with the outside air, shutting the door in my wake.
Try harder. With every morning presents itself a new set of opportunities and difficulties. Making it up I-71 safely. Providing quality work that can proudly be presented as my own. Calling that über at the end of the night instead of letting anyone drive home. Try harder is exactly what I’ll do. Because I believe that to be important.
Late for work.