Monday, May 16, 2011

"My Morning Mocha," or "The Curious Case of the Coffee Craze"

I was debating whether or not to get a mocha this morning, but then I suddenly got the feeling of "Heck with it, I'm getting a mocha!" So I walked over to the bottleshop at 9:37 in order to get a mocha. I checked the time to see how long it would take for me to get back to my office; I wanted it to be under 5 minutes.

As I entered the bottleshop, the smell of freshly ground espresso beans wafted into my nostrils, exciting me all the more, for my tongue would soon touch these tasty molecules.The break room with the espresso machine is right near the bottleshop's conference room, so I walked through that room to get there, and noticed the projector was on and the screen said "Shutting Down." I figured someone had just finished a meeting, and went to fill my mug. I put a squirt of the chocolate sauce into my mug, making sure that I pushed the nozzle all the way down, to get the full ounce of flavor. I then nuzzled my cup under the spout and began to wonder if I actually wanted a cappucino. I read the cappucino instructions, and realized that it does not have chocolate sauce, so I decided I had better go with my original plan, and chose mocha. While I calmly waited for the coffee machine to fill my cold cup with caffeine caliente, Cory came in and we made conversation about how cool the capable machine could be.

After my mocha was finished we both walked through the conference room again, when he mentioned "It's done this twice now," regarding the conference computer shutting down. I said "Oh yeah, this latest batch of updates had all the computers rebooting a couple of times. On Thursday, mine was taking a while, so I just came to get some coffee. I can wait, though, to make sure it goes through." We talked about his broken laptop, and what might be the best method of fixing or replacing it. He wasn't sure if netbooks have CD drives, so I mentioned that even if they don't, there is software that can mimic a CD drive if needed. José walks through, complaining that his mocha will undo the work of biking in today.

The conference computer booted, and Cory logged in. He opened up a video file that he planned on playing at his meeting, starting at 10:00. The file opened, a moving image appeared on-screen, and the cacophony of crashing bottles that is ever-present in the bottleshop blared through the conference speakers. Then, nothing. Black. What happened? Had he stopped the video because it was so loud? Someone walks by, headed to the espresso machine.

Then the Dell logo flashed into focus. The computer had rebooted. "Good thing I'm here," I joked. We let the OS boot again, and he mentioned that the only program that seemed to work with those files is Quicktime, and WMP always plays the video sideways. Since time was ticking down 'til his meeting started, I decided I had better install Quicktime posthaste. Hunter and Al mosey on through, talking about how nice it is to take a break to walk out to the bottleshop for an espresso.

Quickly I opened the relevant website and clicked the Download link. 350 KB/s. Really? It was going to take two minutes to download a few MB file? So be it. Ken uses the side door, and informs people that this machine makes Americano as well.

Finally, the file was downloaded! I typed in my administrator password so that it could install. Someone accidentally cuts in line, arousing a flurry of complaints from the caffeine-starved office workers.

It looked like it was working, then it asked for my password again. Abnormal, but nothing to worry about. Another minute, and it's done! Tyler mentions that the machine went through eight gallons of milk before 1:00 last week.

Quicktime had installed. The video worked, and wasn't sideways when it played. It's a good thing, too, because several people had already showed up for the meeting. "Alright, Cory, looks like it's working, so I'll see you later." "Thanks, Doug." I look down at my mug, and it's empty.

Friday, August 14, 2009

And then...

For the ninth time that day, the doorbell rang, bringing with it the expectations that always accompany a visitor to the asylum. But no one, oh yes none, knew its extent.

Sunday, April 19, 2009


The truth is that the little animals couldn't run fast enough to escape their own minds, however weak they really were in comparison. They sprinted, O yes, they sprinted, and even jumped up trees, then from branch to branch, tree to tree, deftly dodging thought and idea as they tried to plan an escape but couldn't, their thoughts already occupied with attackers. Instead their only escape was through instinct; they were reduced to mere shadows of what they had become, and their abilities were now useless and all they could do was run.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Someone Wasn't Listening

As you can see, the children who have been betrayed are oblivious to the glory which has been produced by this betrayal, and though it is difficult to not pity them, I feel such a great remorse that I believe it to be not true, but artificially created for the sake of promoting their well-being, even in the present circumstance in which I know them not.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Life's Tricks

Surreal as it was, he knew he had to go. Waking up on a stranger's couch is something that either reminds you of the night before, or of your own mortality. It really depends on what you drank before finding yourself there. But he found his keys, found the bathroom, then found his car. Work. At 10. That's why he left this house at 8, waving to the stranger at the top of the stairs as he left. On his way home, he realized that, not knowing when he fell asleep, he might still be too affected to drive. But it didn't feel like it. He'd be fine. He thought he should feel tired, as he usually did, but he was alert, if not refreshed. From there, his day transformed into what could be considered normal, although, once in a while, he would look down at himself and realize that he was never really there.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Premature Exit

As he stood with a look of nonchalance carved into his face, they began to realize he was serious. Some members of the audience began to smile; some began to despair. Most stood up and left, until less than a dozen remained to see the spectacle. He knew they would love it, but perhaps everyone would have, if only they had opened themselves up to it. As I left the building, I heard him calling out to them one by one to come up onto the stage. I suppose my cab driver was no better then he could have been.