Ryan’s Place

I’m starting to find myself going insane.

So I’m going to say more about that.

Considering the latest episodes in my life, I think it’s going well enough, I guess.  There are some interesting times, some times I wish I could reverse, some times where I could make everything better, and some times where I could have just stopped time and thought.

I was downtown (when am I not), going down to the Starbucks on Duns and Seymour for a meeting.  I got my iced mocha, found there was nowhere to sit in the cramped little café, and decided to stand outside under the awning.  Standing, perched up against the wall, slowly sipping my coffee through a green straw I watched the street.  I found that watching the people go by on the street was oddly relaxing.  I realize that people watching sounds mildly voyeuristic, but it is oddly relaxing.

I found that I would watch people go by, all of them concerned with either their day, their lives, their work, their school, their personal lives, the stories that their friends spoke about on the phone.  The sound of the music from their headphones, the frightening sound of the bus going by to the small children, the angry drivers trying to make left hand turns, and the tourists confused by the angle of the city.  Watching them all progress through the intersection was interesting, and eventually they all melded together into the progressional mass of human individuality.

And then someone caught my eye.  This woman crossing the street looked like she didn’t belong.  She seemed young, and oddly aged at the same time.  She had bright light blue eyes, dark blond hair, fair skin, and she was wrapped in what looked like a thin, grey shall.  It covered her from the neck down to her waist.  Thin enough to see the fabric strech across her hands, where you could distinguish the detail from her fingers, her tendons, and skin as she held her hands together at her waist.  Thick enough to be opaque, and impenetrable to light and prying eyes.  She wore little jewelry, small pendant earrings moved as she stepped, but through the veil she wore no rings, no bracelets.  Minimal make up, only that which was natural, and simple.  I could still see her tiny freckles under her eyes.

Details persisted, she walked with purpose, taking each step in stride towards whatever goal she had.  Yet it looked as if something was troubling her, as if she was pained, as if some great weight was upon her.  She looked unsure, or somewhat bothered by the purpose she had in her step.

And all of this, in the 10 seconds it took her to pass me by, and disappear around the corner.  I wondered, why did she bother, or intrigue me so?  Should I be so bold, to say that this is an omen?  Something to forewarn me of things to come?  Of things to be done, or of things that will, or would have been to those I know?  Should I even know now?

And now as I write this, I find no answers to the questions I ask.  Maybe this is to be all that is, and all my questions will remain unanswered for eternity.  For now, I will take the time to sit, write, contemplate, reflect, and watch.

I see roses on the balcony across the street.

Alright, so, in an effort to cut down my costs, and since I didn’t feel like actually going to starbucks this morning, I decided to make my own coffee again. Now some of you might remember that I did normally do this, but somewhere down the line I stopped and decided to get starbucks instead.

My answer to this is; Well, my coffee isn’t all that good….

Now, I could go on a rant about how the corporate world has tainted my taste buds, and how I can’t have possibly made the same kind of coffee as I could have, had I not bought their hideously overpriced, over-modified, over-preserved, and over-everything products.

That’s not my issue (kinda), my issue has been narrowed down to two things (I think).

I’ve tried all sorts of blends, and roasts, all of which imparting their varying flavors, all of which, from bold to mild, and the shitty. Yes that’s right, shitty. In general I have a thing for organic coffee, but I still don’t get that bold, rich, strong flavor that I want when I make it at home. So, either I’m not getting the right coffee, which is entirely possible, I haven’t gone to granville, or agro lately enough to grab some good organic coffee. Or, my expresso machine, isn’t doing so good of a job, namely, maybe it’s watering all of my coffee down.

I’m more inclined to believe it is the latter, since my expresso does taste, and feel, watered down. Yes my coffee has a feel. The only way I know of fixing this is to get a new one, but that, due to other, currently undisclosed reasons (ihaznomonies), is not possible. So any ideas?

The culprit in question, (my expresso machine) is…. Apparently non-existent according to google….

Oook, so, It’s a Krups, and it looks a lot like their Gusto line, minus the large water basin in the back.

Ideas?

Ok, so now I’ve been thinking back on my starbucks addiction for the past week, and I’ve had the following realization come to mind.

Holy shit, I need to bring my mug more.

I mean I’ve gone from this whole, anti-landfill-filling-paper-cup-person to this maggot who keeps leaving his cups strewn across the planet. It’s starting to make me sick. I do have plenty of perfectly good mugs at home, but I never use them because I never think far enough ahead to get coffee….

That’s a lie too, since I look forward to getting my coffee on the way to class, so you know, to hell with it, I’m bringing my mug again to class.

Now I don’t know why I wrote this blog.