list 43 things that make life worth living

I’ll level with all of you: I am not a morning person. But few things light a candle under my respective keister every day like a nice, big molten-hot cup of caffeinated liquid charcoal. And I don’t exaggerate when I akin my coffee to charcoal either.

I started taking my coffee black back in school when I spent many a long night cramming for one form of examination or another. I realized then that if you take coffee with cream or sugar it not only waters it down, but it does something absolutely counterproductive to the whole purpose why I was drinking it in the first place: it made it taste good.

And by tasting good, it reminded me of nights of my youth, coming in from the snow to make hot chocolate and then fall asleep on the couch in front of fire. Iconic, isn’t it? I’m getting a little sleepy just thinking about it. But in that lies the problem, simply put, if your coffee makes you sleepy, you are doing it wrong.

I think half of what used to wake me up from drinking black coffee was the taste. I mean, seriously, if you have something that bitter early in the morning it’s like a slap in the face. Few things do the trick better.

They say that coffee is an acquired taste. I’ve often heard the same thing for cigarettes and I can’t say I care for the latter, but an interesting caveat is that I’ve also heard that the average cigarette smoker takes two weeks to adjust changing brands. Which basically says that if you taste just about anything regularly long enough, it’ll grow on you to the point where you like the taste.

So I set out to find ways to make it darker, and thus entered the coffee press. I recently became the proud owner of a 32 ounce thermal coffee press and I gotta say this thing’s really down wonderful things for making coffee darker. Unlike with drip coffee makers, in which the water only passes through the coffee grounds, with the press, the coffee soaks immobile within the water, waiting for that very moment when you decide it’s dark enough and you hit the plunger, pushing the grounds to the bottom and leaving you with some thick, rich sludge.

Of course the problem comes in once again of getting used to the taste, which is now becoming a factor. When twenty-minute pressed coffee starts tasting great, it pretty much means you’ve reached the point of no return: after this no gas-station black coffee is ever going to cut the mustard again. And then what?

Will I become one of those home-roasters who buy there beans green and in bulk? Or will I simply move on to just drinking pure espresso? Only time will tell.

In the mean time I’ll just sit here pondering all this while I wait for the hot chocolate to cool enough to drink it.

Three dozen bullet holes, two dead rats, and one full gallon jar of urine later, John and I made the sound decision that the Tuesday workload had come to a close.

That’s an excerpt from the journal entry I made earlier this evening. Honestly, my job freakin’ rocks. I’d rather not say what it is specifically, but I’ll take a moment to describe what it’s like:

Basically I sit in a cube most days and my coworkers usually pride themselves in not talking to one another. This makes everything in the office run smoothly and helps everyone go about their business. My work consists primarily of puzzles which can be solved by a combination of surfing the web, making phone calls, or the occasional site visit.

Site visits are hilarious because (if the introduction didn’t clue you in) they can run the whole gamut of situations. By choice of profession, we are (albeit probably unfairly) some of the most hated members of our industry, so half the time we’re dealing with people, we get to make up fake names and pretend we’re someone else, or else no one will talk to us. Plus, these visits can be in relatively far-off places (usually a few hundred miles one-way) in which not only do we receive our normal salaried pay, but we actually earn a bonus of 48.5 cents per mile. And then some days we get the assignment to drive to another state to go on what is essentially a city-wide scavenger hunt. And the actual pay itself . . . let’s just say ain’t bad.

In summary, I just think of the friends of mine who sit in cubes all-day, every-day, writing the same lines of code or working the same accounts receivables, and I’m glad I have a job where I solve puzzles, assume an assortment of fake names, and just when things almost seem to get routine go on some random road-trip about every third week.

“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.”
– Hunter S. Thompson

Wow, I just got done with my “Confined Water Certification” (i.e. I am now certified to dive in all the world’s finest swimming pools), and even though it was in this tiny-frickin’ pool, that was pretty damn awesome.

It really didn’t take that long for the whole thing to just feel completely natural and the class started playing catch unprompted by the instructor while we were just screwing around. While the equipment looked a little foreboding before I’d signed up, after reading the textbook provided, it really isn’t too complicated. In fact, it was also pretty cool just hooking all the crap up.

I can easily see how someone can get lost in this as a hobby. I mean, once you’re in the water, you feel pretty weightless, although it does take a couple minutes to adapt to swimming with the tank on. But once that happens, man, it was awesome. All this and I haven’t even left a pool yet.

Also, everyone taking the class, including the instructor were really friendly. I mean, while we did learn a lot, everyone just kinda kidded around the whole time and the whole experience was a blast.

My “Open Water Dive Certification” is in a week and a half over at a quarry nearby and I seriously can’t wait. And to think, it’s a shame we live next to Lake Michigan, which has a reputation for bad viz and leaves an aftertaste of mercury in your mouth (that reminds me: f### you BP, thanks a lot).

All BP-bashing aside, I can’t wait to go somewhere where you can actually see something. If scuba is this awesome in a pool, I can’t wait to do it where there’s some coral!

Because sometimes, you want to go out, and you don’t want to run into the first girlfriend you ever had. In fact, you usually go to the pool hall because you don’t want to run into anyone period.

I have to say, the ideal pool hall is dimly lit, with a jukebox, selling beer, and thick enough with smoke that it’s hard to make out the faces on the people across the room. Why? Because despite what many people might think about pool halls, they are terrible places to pick up women. You go to the pool hall to chill the fuck out and catch up with buddies. Maybe you might bring a date there, but it usually wouldn’t be a first date because with all the moving around the table and the music, it’s kinda hard to make out what the hell she’s saying.

But if you want to escape the crowded clubs and the usual crowd, and just hang out with friends, kill a few brews, and work on your nine-ball, there’s fewer places I’d rather be.

Most people don’t know this, but you have basically 5 different types of taste buds. The big four most people know of enable you to taste Sweet, Salty, Sour, and Bitter. So what’s the fifth? Umami

So, if you’re like most people, you might ask the question, “Umami, what the #### is Umami?” Simply put, umami is what monosodium glutamate (aka MSG) tastes like, a taste that we have the ability to percieve however occurs very, very rarely in traditional western cooking. It does however exist in many varieties of asian cuisine, and is very prevalent in westernernized “chinese food.” Which is why chinese food tastes “Chinesey.”

Oddly enough, we don’t really have a word to describe the taste, so we borrow the Japanese word for it, “Umami.” In recent times, we westerners have started to label the taste “Savoury,” however since savoury can also mean something is just tastey, and doesn’t include MSG, the label is misleading and most scientists still use the label Umami.

Whatever the case, man, Chinese food is delicious. It’s definately one of those things like deep-dish pizza or beer that personally I can only have once in a while, as for some reason, MSG makes me very lethargic and unproductive.

Because let’s face it. Sometimes things don’t exactly go according to plan.

Sometimes, you bomb that test, you get fired, your dog dies, your group doesn’t pan out, dinner burns, the little kids scream, or hey, you just get flat out dumped.

Some days, but maybe not everyday, that stiff drink might be deep down what all of us need.

Alcoholism might be a crippling disease, but conveniently enough, I hear liquor is also a crutch.

A friend of mine used to tell me, “Pizza and Beer is the vacation you give yourself.” He also used to say, “Not since sex and two women has there been such a kick-ass combination.” And you know, he wasn’t far off. I mean, pizza is good, and beer is awesome, but somehow, this combination is far more than the sum of it’s parts.

I don’t know what it is about cheap, creamy lager, but it goes amazingly well with pizza. And it really does have to be lager. I’ve tried ale and it was okay, but stout just didn’t really work. In theory, what should taste best with pizza is red wine, since technically pizza is pasta. But it doesn’t look like this is the case. I mean, that might be true with spaghetti or lasagna, but I don’t think that really works with pizza.

Seriously though, few things really satisfy like splitting a pitcher and a big slice of pie.

Either way. You might not be ready to write a novel, and you might not be ready to read one. But they’re there. It doesn’t matter. You might write your magnum opus and it only comes to 17 pages.

But that’s what you need. It’s not that novels are over rated, but when you hit that crescendo and end on a high note, but haven’t even hit page 30, you know you’re going out with a bang.

Now, a long time ago I was told that Reno is the biggest little city in the world. But ya know. As big a city as it is, I love this joint. From north to south, it’s got it’s own kind of character, anywhere you go. From Lakeview to the Loop, Wrigleyville to Roger’s Park, Greektown to Chinatown, Little Korea and Fullerton. It’s everything you could ask for in a city.

Hell there’s even a beach or two.

Museums and monuments, clubs and castles there are few places I’d rather be. It’s not too hot, too cold, and the only bear’s that are around to set Goldilock’s straight play at Soldier Field on Sunday.

Murder capitol of the nation, and yet the crime really isn’t that bad. Da Bulls, Da Bears, Da Cubs, Da Hawks. In the history of Basketball, we have THE team. Lakers might come and go but we’re the only ones with the repeat three-peat, baby.

Sure, the Yankees may have more money than God, but how about them Sox, eh? The Cubs probably have the most loyal fans in baseball because it’s been a full century since they’ve won a series. And New York boos A-Rod. Only because they don’t have the class.

As far as being friendly goes, no tour guide has ever said to not make eye-contact, which is more than I can say about other big cities. Home of what was the origins of Saturday Night Live, and still infinately better, we’ve got everything you’d ever want, ever need, and ever believe.

Second to no city, you’re my kind of town Chicago.

Really, this is what gets me through the day. Sure, in a perfect world, I’d get up at the same time every day . . . and go to sleep each night at the same time . . . every day. I wouldn’t drink any caffeine, drink booze on the weekend, or have any stress whatsoever.

Then, I’m sure I wouldn’t even need naps. But until that day, holy crap man. I’ve found though that the best kind tend to be the shortest. As long as I can hit just one cycle of REM, I’m good for another two hours. Timing that is of course the tricky part. I normally have trouble falling asleep, even when taking naps. But when I do take naps, I tend to be fully clothed, with an alarm clock or two set up across the room and set the time for about forty minutes. In that amount of time I’ll lay there trying to fall asleep for probably 35-38 minutes, hit about fiveish minutes of REM, and then the alarm knocks me out of bed.

But when that happens, man I’m pumped for the next five or six hours with no grogginess whatsoever. But speaking of sleep, that sounds like something I should be doing currently and as such, I will go do.