Finding the Sublime

A few weeks ago, I saw this article on Zite, which was titled the same as this blog post. It was a photography post, and this particular quote inspired me to find sublimeness in my own world: Whereas the beautiful is limited, the sublime is limitless...

So here are a few things that are deliciously wonderful and filled with enough mundane to not be "beautiful":

Knowing all the words to a song you just heard

Perfect humidity for a good hair day

Speeding past a cop

A great night's sleep (or sleeping while its raining)

Our cat putting on a "performance" for us

Screened in porch in a yard of mosquitoes

Eating a delicious pizza after talking it up for half an hour

Having friends over

Getting away with talking in half-sentences/pheromones with someone

Big fuzzy socks after a hot shower

Grateful for Not Working

Ok, so who wouldn't want more money? I don't have a Shetland pony or even have a Porshe, maybe because I don't work 100 hour work weeks for that kind of lifestyle.

My work is relatively boring, and a recent podcast from Adam Carolla indicated that being in the middle of the popularity scale (i.e. not too good but not bad enough for everyone to have an opinion) was a good thing. Even though my job title is "engineer," I basically go to meetings most of the day. Meetings fall somewhere between watching paint dry and executing the boss's orders, like in Independence Day, so the ratio of intense mental engagement to eye glaze is always changing. While the result of my attendance might not be anything great, "it ain't bad." Never am I unwelcome or worse... invisible to the people in my field.

Anyway, I'm glad that my writing doesn't bring home the bacon, as I've seen some real winners lately. Sure, I love writing and taking pictures... of stuff that matters to me. Stuff that matters to other people has been increasingly less important, and I feel like the quality of my work would reduce exponentially to the number of "assignments" required per week. Maybe the folks who are really good can consistently produce. That would explain why Bob Ross could keep up "happy little clouds" for 403 episodes of The Joy of Painting. It's what separates us mere mortals from the Rowlings, Speilburgs, and Madonnas, who worked very hard to earn the title, "Great."

Realizing you're just average instead of great is a tough pill to swallow, but actually, being great isn't all that great anyway. I'm glad I don't have to make people care about what is important to me. My time and energy can be spent on those things instead of what's important for money. Great work most likely doesn't include cats in sunspots, for example.

Judger of Coffee

I don't want to brag or anything, but I used to be a barista before that title was popular. I called myself a "delicatessen" on my resume, which would include food and fancy beverages. In reality, I manned the hotdog station every weekend and prepared approximately 400 electric pink hotdogs every week (1 for myself). These things were not made with people in mind. My stomach probably has enough pink dye in it to turn my organs an interesting shade for several decades.

Yummy! I ate one of these every week for 3 years.
Photo credit: good-times.webshot.com

Everyone had these crap types of jobs... the ones where you have to watch the employee DVD on how to do something like stock shelves correctly or make a cappuccino.  I still remember from the awful 90s instructional that enforced "espresso" is not lamely spelled with an "x," and the perfect milk steam is between 152 and 160 degrees. If you've seen this vid, you should win a prize for watching the whole thing, because those factoids are roughly 83 minutes apart (meaning you took this as seriously as I did).

Anyway, somewhere along the way a nice lady told me that I made the perfect cappuccino, and proceeded to describe it as a philosophical haiku. Just kidding, she just said it was the best one she ever had, which was substantial to a 16 year old making $5.15 an hour before taxes, and coming home every night smelling like hotdog. It occurred to me that drinking the best drink, eating the best meal, and driving the best car was something that I'd like to do one day. With my hotdog smelling paycheck, I began my "coffee perfection quest."

Today my favorite beverage is an americano, with a requisite proper amount of espresso, water, and cream to make it perfect.  If you've never had one, it's two espresso shots and hot water to fill the cup. You add as much cream to it as you would a cup of coffee, and this drink was guaranteed to be much fresher than what was sitting in the decaf carafe.  I had one of the best americano's ever tonight, and I should have told the person who made it (who is probably making $6 an hour before taxes at the University coffee shop).  At $2.55, it's a steal. I won't say classes were any shorter, but it was the best handmade drink I've had in 2011.