books I've been reading

I've been doing a considerable amount of reading lately, getting back to my roots. When I was in high school, I read for about thirty minutes to an hour every night before bed. Falling asleep with a book in your hands is far better than falling asleep to sitcom reruns. The first book, Almost a Miracle, is the story of the War for American Independence (histories of the American Revolution tend to focus on the revolution itself, with the war often treated as a sideshow; military histories, such as this, is where the juicy stuff is found, IMHO). Ferling is one of my favorite historians of the colonial era (my second favorite is Fred Anderson who specializes in the French & Indian War, but who has also written books on the colonial era in general, and he's even written a great book on the War of 1812). The second book, an atlas of the battles, is a perfect companion to any military history of the Revolution. I love atlases and maps, following the movements of the armies and the actions in the heat of battle is so much easily comprehended when you can follow the actions geographically. The book covers the majority of the pitched battles in the war and even covers some of the more dramatic moments in the partisan warfare of the southern backcountry. 

the 35th week

Monday. DeJuan and I opened, and lunch was crazy with only four of us. I spent my afternoon hanging out with Blake & Isaac, and Traci joined us at the Loth House for an evening of Metallica Guitar Hero.

Tuesday. DeJuan and I opened, and I went by Amos' after work since he had the day off, and we played some MW3. Back at the house I got down on some Birds of Steel and grabbed Subway for dinner (and since I'm broke, I maxxed out my Subway card). 

Wednesday. Chloe and I closed shop. I'm going to start closing on days when Amos is roasting. Traffic home was hell, thanks to the Pure Romance convention and the Reds game. I spent a quiet night at home: did some reading, watched Titanic on Netflix, and showered before crawling into bed around 9 PM, totally exhausted.

Thursday. Isaac's in Montana hanging out with Mandy, and he got some shitty news: his mom's lung cancer has spread to her brain. So "shitty" is an understatement. "2013. What a shitty year," I told Amos. Work sucked: both Frank and Sarah called off, and we've fired too many people to call in anyone else. I went by Frank's place on Liberty after work, and then I spent a quiet evening watching TV.

Friday. Corey Isaac returned from Montana: his mom isn't doing too good, and they've given her just the weekend. Mandy returned with him, too, for an indefinite stay. I met up with them at CVG and ferried Mandy to the apartment, where she'll be crashing. "It's great to have you back, though I'd prefer it be under different conditions." Ams came over, and Mandy surprised the shit out of her. Dylan joined us, and we took shots and hung out for a while. Mandy passed out and Ams left, and Dylan and I ran to Liberty Street to see Frank and Rebecca, and then we watched Daft Punk Youtube videos and went to bed.

Saturday. I spent most of the day watching the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy, and my evening was spent at the Loth House with Amos, John & Brandy, Frank and Rebecca. It was Frank's birthday, so we took shots in the kitchen. John liked how I "chase" shots not with juice but with water cupped into my hands from the kitchen faucet. "You are a MAN!" I was home by 11:00, arriving as Isaac and Mandy returned from Hospice, and we were up until 1 AM. His mom's still alive but no longer responding; at this point it's just a waiting game.

Sunday. I woke too late for The Anchor and U.C.C., but NOT too late for Dusmesh with Amos. The house was quiet tonight: Corey and Mandy were in Indiana with Corey's mom, and Blake spent the evening at Jeff's. I spent the day reading and writing and was up until 1 AM thanks to coffee. Mandy texted me late in the night: "Corey's mom has passed." Fucking awful.

"The Devil's Delusion"

McGrath's The Dawkins Delusion criticized Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion from a markedly Christian perspective. The Devil's Delusion by Berlinski criticizes the New Atheism movement as a whole, focusing at times on Dawkins, other times on Hitchens, and so on and so forth. Furthermore, and this what makes me like the book more than McGrath's, it's written from a purely theistic perspective. Berlinski doesn't practice a faith of his own and supports theism--the belief in a higher power, such as God--without staking a claim in any particular religious slant. His writing style is much more philosophical and open-ended than McGrath's, and his almost lofty, vague musings at points raise more questions than answers, but in the good way like you want. Click HERE for my book notes. 

U.C.C. INFP-style

I've been going to University Christian Church as of late, whenever I can, weaseling my way in INFP style. Social gatherings without a personal companion are always intimidating for me, and as much as I'd like to think my mannerisms challenge social norms, Mandy made a good point when she said, "There's a difference between challenging social norms and being challenged by them." She has a good point. 

My hardcore introverted side cringes at the thought of being immersed in a sea of people whom I don't know, people who might try to talk to me, and U.C.C. is perfect, because it has a balcony for all the introverts (comparing the "Meet and Greet" in the balcony to the "Meet and Greet" on the main level rises striking contrasts). Here we can sit, observe, think, and not feel ourselves drained by the crowd surrounding us. We don't have to find ourselves squashed and suffocated by euphoric worship; we have our corner above to be subdued and contemplative.

As much as I'd like to just sit and think in obscurity throughout the whole thing, I know I can't let my introverted side dictate everything I do. Just as introverts need to push their "comfort zones," so do we introverts. I participated in communion the other day, something I had to literally stomach the nerve to do. I always like it when communion is passed on trays, it lets me stay in my quiet and meditative state without interruption. U.C.C. does the more communal style where you gather together in a line, take your juice and cracker from the tray at the front of the sanctuary, and then take it back to your seat. This means I have to get up from my seat in the balcony, go down to the main level, and then blend myself with the crowd. Seriously. It was like panic attack central. But I pulled it off, and it wasn't too awkward, and someone even smiled at me, which was cool. Part of stretching my safety zone is actually participating in "Meet and Greet"; generally I leave the apartment (or the Anchor) five minutes late to try and miss that part, though sometimes I terrifyingly get stuck in the middle of it with all the other awkward introverts up there with me. But I'm going to start showing up on time, and I think if I treat them as I would treat customers at the cafe, I'll do all right.

All this talk about introversion in the church leads me to my last point: I've been reading a book called (originally enough) Introverts in the Church, and it's about how the modern church is biased towards extroversion and even prejudiced against introversion, to the point where introverts' gifts are marginalized and their lack of enthusiasm about extroverted ideals is seen as spiritual weakness. Much of the book is about introversion as a whole and how introverts can participate and contribute to the church's mission in ways that are in sync with their God-given introverted personalities. It's a kickass book, and I'm sure quotes from it will be on this blog in due time. 

workin' it

Life in the Tazza Land has been HELL lately. We've fired two people, hired two people, and then one of our new hires took another job and Frank quit. We've been understaffed and to make it even better, our Micros system was down for two weeks. "Skeleton Crew" could never be more aptly used to describe our current situation. Every day is an adventure (or something like that), and as much as I do love the challenge, it gets more than frustrating. I'm happy to work with such great people and to be part of a coffee shop that sells pretty kickass coffee compared to most places, and I like the fact that I've worked my ass off and moved up from the lowest-rung food prep person to the assistant store manager. All that aside, however, is the knowledge that (a) there's no more room for advancement and (b) I make waaay too little to call this any sort of career. Consequently, (c) I need to get a different job. And maybe even (d) start a career.

I've been throwing out resumes left and right, applying at various organizations and businesses, but so far no takers. There's a saying that once you get in coffee, you stay in coffee. It isn't because we just fall in love with coffee and could never imagine doing anything else; it's simply that our resumes are tailored, quite exclusively, to one niche in the marketplace. Cafe after cafe isn't exactly a recipe for a kickass resume, and when employers see "Cincinnati Christian University," their first thought is, "Oh, look, a useless degree in redundant liberal arts." Not that my degree's useless: I cherish the time I had at C.C.U. and the way it's shaped me to think differently than a lot of people (Frank told me the other day that he noticed bible college graduates tend to think differently than msot people, and in an interesting way). My undergraduate sets me up to get my Master's, and that's the obvious next step.

The question, though: "What should I pursue a Master's in?" The old addage goes, "Do what you love." And so I immediately want to start my Master's in American History. But the saying isn't "Do what you love for the cost of 20-30,000 dollars." If I'm honest with myself, my main motivation for a Master's in American History is the appetizing thought of just immersing myself in history for hours on end and learning about these things through lectures and homework. I'm a dork, I know. But I can do all of this for free, the downside being that I don't have a piece of paper saying I know what I'm talking about. As cool as such a paper would be, 20,000-something dollars is a pretty steep price. Dan Dyke told me a long time ago that it doesn't make sense to get a Master's in something just because you want to; the whole point of a Master's is to qualify yourself to get a degree where you can earn enough to pay back all your college loans. If you can't get a job enabling you to pay it back, then the degree was really a stupid idea, no matter how cool the paper may look or how accomplished it'd make you feel. Whatever I get my degree in needs to be something in which I can make enough to pay back my loans. I can justify my Master's in American History by telling myself that I can get a teaching job; but (a) the teaching market is flooded, (b) those with bachelor's degrees are chosen over those with Master's because the less qualified you are, the less they have to pay you (a big deal when school budgets are being slashed to the bone), and (c) every article I've read online about the worst college degrees mentions history at the top of the list (usually right next to Library Science and Religion). 

the 34th week

Monday. I went to Panera across the street from work to read the bible and pray. Coffee and scripture, a good way to start the morning. I'm F.P. all week since Sarah's on vacation in Florida. Dave was fired Friday. Amos opened, and when we got off work we went to his place to play video games. My afternoon was spent dicking around: I got Chipotle for dinner and jetted to the Loth House for shirtless Rock Band. I made Traci laugh so hard she pissed herself!

Tuesday. DeJuan was late again, so he got a "two weeks notice," and then he's gone. Amos was forty-five minutes late, and Chloe didn't know the door code so she arrived on time but couldn't get in. And Brandon had two catering orders and looked ready to kamikaze Tazza Mia. At least my morning coffee and scripture was uneventful! Amos, John and I kicked back with Smuttynose chamomile beers in the Loth House lawn, and I spent my evening reading and hanging out with Isaac.

Wednesday. Helluva busy day: Panera before work, work meeting till 7:00 (coffee tastings and a spur-of-the-moment latte art competition), and then I rushed home for an evening hanging out with Dylan, who's back from Mozambique. Ams joined us, and we grabbed Chipotle for dinner and played video games, hung out in the living room listening to music, and shared so many stories from the Old Days and what's transpired since. It was so good to see him. He's heading to D.C. in a month to work for a bit before Grad School. Having him back, it was just like old times. It feels like just yesterday he was shipping out and we were saying we'd miss each other. Miss one another we sure did, and it's crazy to think it's been 2 1/2 years. He piped up about how weird it is for people he knows to be so different now, but at least I haven't changed: I'm still the goofy, warm, laid-back guy I've always been (much to my own detriment). He wanted to stay up until 2 AM so I drank a bunch of coffee and he was passed out by 11:00.

Thursday. Corey and Chloe opened. It's Corey's last day. He's off to The Gathering Place in Bright the next state over. Corey had a bunch of people over to the apartment: Josh and Ty from Fusian, Dejuan and his girlfriend, and T.J. came, too. We hit up the Happy Hollow and I had a few shots of whiskey and downed it with orange juice.

Friday. Work was slammed, a fitting conclusion to a chaotic week. I napped until 5:00 and made pork chops and Mac-&-Cheese for dinner and watched The Hunger Games on Netflix. A nice, relaxing evening; I needed it.

Saturday. I slept in till 8:00, went downtown to do the USFoods order and visit Amos, and after lunch with Dad and a new bike tire at Frisch's, I headed downtown to hang out with Amos, Frank and Rebecca on Liberty Street. I spent the rest of the evening relaxing at home watching The Pianist.

Sunday. I went to U.C.C. and even braved the crowd to partake in communion! Andy, Amos and I got Dusmesh for lunch and Ams came over. We got groceries from Kroger. Corey returned from his weekend in Bright. Ams, Andy and Amos headed out and when Blake came home we played NBA Jam.

books I've been reading

I haven't done as much reading as of late as I'd like, or at least haven't been making too much headway in anything. As I told Chloe, one of our new employees, I'm always reading like six books at once. For some reason I'd rather dip my toes in several ponds at once rather than plunge headfirst into one of them. Really, the latter is probably optimal: focusing on one book, solely, certainly makes it easier to comprehend. My mind, much like my life, is pretty scatterbrained, so I get ADHD if I spend too much time on a single subject. I'd like to compare myself to Benjamin Franklin (who wouldn't?) for being involved in so many different subjects, but unlike him I have no accomplishments to show for it.

These two books I recently finished were pretty phenomenal. I started reading a different history of World War 2, but I left it on top of Ams' car and she sped away with it. I searched the streets but to no avail. No worries, though: its replacement, Inferno by Max Hastings, was far more enjoyable. I particularly liked his focus on the oft-forgotten Eastern Front, the theater between Russia and Germany. Many histories, written by British or Americans, treat the Eastern Front as a sideshow to what the other Allied powers were doing in France and the Pacific. This is ridiculous, since it was really Russia who brought the Germans to their knees (the other Allied powers pretty much just bit it in its ass). Strange how close to ninety percent of World War Two's casualties can occur in the Eastern Front and yet modern histories treat this as peripheral to the real action. Bias certainly skews things.

The second book, a work of historical fiction, follows prominent characters in World War 2--Eisenhower, Patton, and Rommel, for instance--through the final year of the North African campaign. I've always been partial to Shaara's historical fiction, but I've found that I enjoy his "earlier" works better (those pertaining, no surprise, to the American Revolution and the Civil War). World War 2 fascinates me, and I love reading it, but colonial American history up through the Reconstruction Era is what I'm really into. Consider it an historical fetish, if you will. On that note, I'm putting my reading through Shaara's novels on hold for a bit to satisfy my appetite for colonial matters with Almost A Miracle by the colonial American historian John Ferling.