That's right, guys. I'm back to myself. I'm over and done with the crap I've been going through, and I feel great. Once again, I'd like to thank the people in my previous post.
I've finally hammered things out with myself, and I'm going to go on living like I used to; free-spirited and rebellious. I'm happy again, goddammit. It was a little shaky last week, but the clouds have disappated and the sun shines through.
This absolution is terrific. The euphoria I'm feeling is especially timely, considering I work the next 6 days and close 4 of them. Tuesday at Starbucks, Wednesday and Thursday cashiering, then Friday through Sunday at Starbucks. Luckily, it's my second to last week, I get paid on Friday, and I'm finally, yes finally, upgrading my freakin' iPod. The Mini just isn't cutting it anymore. If any of you guys come to visit me, I'll love you forever*.
Well, that's about it. I'm back.
*No promises. =p
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Je ne te connais pas
Literally translated, the title means, "I do not know you." It's a song I heard recently, and it--as well as several of my friends and family memebers--has me thinking about myself in relation to other people.
If I've learned anything from Seneca, it's that nothing in life is guraunteed or promised. Sadly, this is the truth, and our clinging hands sometimes slip. The sweat from stress and other people's influential pullings can tear apart even the most kindred of souls.
As always, I wonder what I have done in past situations, and try to think of a better way to carry about my life. In retrospect, I notice that I usually take one of two courses of action:
1.) This method is more avoidant and distant: hold people at arm's length so it's easier when you have to let go. I usually use this method at first, and keep it for people like classmates and acquaintances.
2.) I use this method for close friends and loved ones: I don't let go till it bleeds. I can be a very loyal friend, and I know I have a hard time letting go.
The first method is a logical and admittedly germane approach to friendship. Is it really better to avoid pain, though? Sure, there's more distance, but what joy is there in constantly anticipating that everyone close to you will slip like sand through your fingers? This will inevitably lead to either constant worrying or loss of friends.
I, for one, say hold on and look for good friends that'll squeeze harder when you begin to drift away. Look for friends that will let you seek their sympathy. Let them be a lifeline and a light. Fight for your friendships, and do these things for others. Never settle for someone who won't do these things for you. If they don't want to hear your misfortunes, they probably aren't your friend; however, hold on to hope and keep your faith in friends who give you these courtesies. They will be the most valuable part of your life.
Andrew, Chris, Lyn, and Alice: if I had a glass, I'd be raising it to you guys right now. You've brought me through the roughest November seas of my life and I've come out okay because of you guys.
Alice: You told me to look to God when I lost hope. Your faith has been an inspiration to me, and I would like to get to know you much better this year. I know you're going through some tough times right now, but I will always do for you what you did for me: offer hope.
Lyn: You saved my life and kept me from making a terrible mistake. You've been there to talk about my troubles and keep me in check throughout this difficult summer. If I ever plan on doing something reckless or stupid, I can count on you to keep me under control.
Chris: You consoled me at one of the worst points of my life, and stayed on the phone with me when I could only be described as pathetic. Your empathy and support kept me going even when I was no longer coherent.
Andrew: I don't think I could ask for a better friend. In the seven years I've known you, I've always, always been able to talk to you. No matter how weird or troubling my problems were, you listened and offered advice and consolation. Thanks for being there in all my times of need.
This also is from a song I've heard recently:
"When your faith in life is gone
Come and speak to me
When you’re down and all messed up
Seek my sympathy
When your face is caked with mud
Come and speak to me
When the chill creeps in your blood
Seek my sympathy"
(Your Misfortune by Mike Doughty)
Take those two stanzas as an offer and a promise. I usually never promise anything, but for you guys, I can. Thanks, guys. Thanks for everything.
If I've learned anything from Seneca, it's that nothing in life is guraunteed or promised. Sadly, this is the truth, and our clinging hands sometimes slip. The sweat from stress and other people's influential pullings can tear apart even the most kindred of souls.
As always, I wonder what I have done in past situations, and try to think of a better way to carry about my life. In retrospect, I notice that I usually take one of two courses of action:
1.) This method is more avoidant and distant: hold people at arm's length so it's easier when you have to let go. I usually use this method at first, and keep it for people like classmates and acquaintances.
2.) I use this method for close friends and loved ones: I don't let go till it bleeds. I can be a very loyal friend, and I know I have a hard time letting go.
The first method is a logical and admittedly germane approach to friendship. Is it really better to avoid pain, though? Sure, there's more distance, but what joy is there in constantly anticipating that everyone close to you will slip like sand through your fingers? This will inevitably lead to either constant worrying or loss of friends.
I, for one, say hold on and look for good friends that'll squeeze harder when you begin to drift away. Look for friends that will let you seek their sympathy. Let them be a lifeline and a light. Fight for your friendships, and do these things for others. Never settle for someone who won't do these things for you. If they don't want to hear your misfortunes, they probably aren't your friend; however, hold on to hope and keep your faith in friends who give you these courtesies. They will be the most valuable part of your life.
Andrew, Chris, Lyn, and Alice: if I had a glass, I'd be raising it to you guys right now. You've brought me through the roughest November seas of my life and I've come out okay because of you guys.
Alice: You told me to look to God when I lost hope. Your faith has been an inspiration to me, and I would like to get to know you much better this year. I know you're going through some tough times right now, but I will always do for you what you did for me: offer hope.
Lyn: You saved my life and kept me from making a terrible mistake. You've been there to talk about my troubles and keep me in check throughout this difficult summer. If I ever plan on doing something reckless or stupid, I can count on you to keep me under control.
Chris: You consoled me at one of the worst points of my life, and stayed on the phone with me when I could only be described as pathetic. Your empathy and support kept me going even when I was no longer coherent.
Andrew: I don't think I could ask for a better friend. In the seven years I've known you, I've always, always been able to talk to you. No matter how weird or troubling my problems were, you listened and offered advice and consolation. Thanks for being there in all my times of need.
This also is from a song I've heard recently:
"When your faith in life is gone
Come and speak to me
When you’re down and all messed up
Seek my sympathy
When your face is caked with mud
Come and speak to me
When the chill creeps in your blood
Seek my sympathy"
(Your Misfortune by Mike Doughty)
Take those two stanzas as an offer and a promise. I usually never promise anything, but for you guys, I can. Thanks, guys. Thanks for everything.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Novicaine for the soul
I once read a quote from a bitter Frenchman: "The world as it is, one can only think of revenge."
It makes a bit of sense. Here we are, fickle and powerless, being given life without really asking for it. We bumble about this world, slowly being crushed by our own ignorance yet remaining either unaware or avoidant of that fact.
That's all beside the point, really. What are we to do about it? Revenge would be wonderful, but on whom are we wishing it. God? That's an inane and pointless endeavor. In my experience, God could care less of what you think of him. I guess that, when omnipotent, you don't have to worry too much about your reputation.
That's the end of that mystery, and I find that irksome. The majority of the world will turn their heads away and enjoy their ignorance. Whether it's a chip on my shoulder or a star on my collar, I find in myself to be a more belligerent spirit. I don't want to sit around felling foolish for the rest of my existance.
I know it's a pointless endeavor. It's like counting the stars. The methods are primitive, the answer is incomplete and based only on our own perception, and the end result is ultimately pointless. On the other hand, I'll be distracted from the fact that I'm a fool. Whatever numbs the pain.
It makes a bit of sense. Here we are, fickle and powerless, being given life without really asking for it. We bumble about this world, slowly being crushed by our own ignorance yet remaining either unaware or avoidant of that fact.
That's all beside the point, really. What are we to do about it? Revenge would be wonderful, but on whom are we wishing it. God? That's an inane and pointless endeavor. In my experience, God could care less of what you think of him. I guess that, when omnipotent, you don't have to worry too much about your reputation.
That's the end of that mystery, and I find that irksome. The majority of the world will turn their heads away and enjoy their ignorance. Whether it's a chip on my shoulder or a star on my collar, I find in myself to be a more belligerent spirit. I don't want to sit around felling foolish for the rest of my existance.
I know it's a pointless endeavor. It's like counting the stars. The methods are primitive, the answer is incomplete and based only on our own perception, and the end result is ultimately pointless. On the other hand, I'll be distracted from the fact that I'm a fool. Whatever numbs the pain.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
My kingdom for an ounce of inspiration
I used to take great pride in my imagination. I rarely had problems coming up with new ideas for my writing, but now, I feel as if someone's killed my muse with a claw hammer. Twelve pages into a short story, and my urge to create is miserably let down by a lack of inspiration.
Sadly, this malaise is spreading to other parts of my life. I can't for the life of me finish Les Miserables, something I swore I'd do before summer ended. When my cousin Josiah, a film student in Los Angeles, visited, I saw how far behind I was creatively. He showed me a few of his short films, all very good. I'm a little concerned that I'll have to drop my creative writing major for a regular lit major; I don't think that I could meet deadlines or write creatively for a grade.
Instead of bitching and moaning, I should probably get out there and actually do something. I abandoned a plan to hitch-hike a little bit this summer--nothing huge, just up to Chattanooga or something. If I'm lucky, I might still get the chance. We'll see.
At least the future holds some hope. Next summer, my parents are planning another cruise on which Josiah and I would be given free roam of things. In addition. We're planning on backpacking Ireland as well. It would be great. Bringing nothing of value and being in an unfamiliar place. Just some disposable cameras, a little cash, clothes, and a credit card or two. We'd visit the pubs, see the cathedrals, and perhaps even sail over to to Scotland. That's something I'd like to write about.
Sadly, this malaise is spreading to other parts of my life. I can't for the life of me finish Les Miserables, something I swore I'd do before summer ended. When my cousin Josiah, a film student in Los Angeles, visited, I saw how far behind I was creatively. He showed me a few of his short films, all very good. I'm a little concerned that I'll have to drop my creative writing major for a regular lit major; I don't think that I could meet deadlines or write creatively for a grade.
Instead of bitching and moaning, I should probably get out there and actually do something. I abandoned a plan to hitch-hike a little bit this summer--nothing huge, just up to Chattanooga or something. If I'm lucky, I might still get the chance. We'll see.
At least the future holds some hope. Next summer, my parents are planning another cruise on which Josiah and I would be given free roam of things. In addition. We're planning on backpacking Ireland as well. It would be great. Bringing nothing of value and being in an unfamiliar place. Just some disposable cameras, a little cash, clothes, and a credit card or two. We'd visit the pubs, see the cathedrals, and perhaps even sail over to to Scotland. That's something I'd like to write about.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Steady as she goes
I have a confession to make, and since no one actually reads this, it won't actually hurt me to make it. It's a little odd, but here it is: I like looking like a tragic character. Tragic heroes, seemingly as a rule, seem to garner an amalgamation of pity and respect. On this stage of a world, I'm playing the role of a degenerate sort of Macbeth, messing about and passively wishing revenge on those who've wronged me. That's where the analogy ends, however; I have a different sort of tragic flaw.
It is a common mistake of several forward-looking people; I'm going to fast for my own good. I'm running blindly through a forest of uncertainty and luckily not knocking down any trees with my face. All I can see is what I want at the end: recognition. After some introspection, I've noticed that my ambitious intentions have escaped my subconscious in myriad ways. For instance, my music preferences (lyrically at least) have become more aggressive, and even pertain to my ambitions. Take the chorus of one of my famous songs for example:
"Into the river below
I'm running from the inferno
They'll think I'm insane
But you'll all know my name
Into the river below
I'm running from the inferno
I'll take all the blame
The front page and the fame"
That's what I want. I demand recognition and respect. I crave it. I've been doing all I can to achieve it. There's a sort of genuine independence to be found when you're admired. I'm not saying I want a chorus of screaming fans, I just want to be noticed. I don't know who these people are, but I want them to look at me with raised eyebrows and genuine interest. Forget Macbeth. I'm a regular Willy Loman. Grab a pen and label me an archetype.
Like I said, that's what I want. If ambition is a sin, I'm among the worst. I'm feeling like I should slow down. I've saddened someone important to me by planning to leave Mercer, a place that I've grown to love for some inexplicable reason. The barest, simplest truth is this: I'm fine graduating from either UGA or Mercer. The degrees mean the same.
Conclusions? There is only this, and this should be my new creed:
It is a common mistake of several forward-looking people; I'm going to fast for my own good. I'm running blindly through a forest of uncertainty and luckily not knocking down any trees with my face. All I can see is what I want at the end: recognition. After some introspection, I've noticed that my ambitious intentions have escaped my subconscious in myriad ways. For instance, my music preferences (lyrically at least) have become more aggressive, and even pertain to my ambitions. Take the chorus of one of my famous songs for example:
"Into the river below
I'm running from the inferno
They'll think I'm insane
But you'll all know my name
Into the river below
I'm running from the inferno
I'll take all the blame
The front page and the fame"
That's what I want. I demand recognition and respect. I crave it. I've been doing all I can to achieve it. There's a sort of genuine independence to be found when you're admired. I'm not saying I want a chorus of screaming fans, I just want to be noticed. I don't know who these people are, but I want them to look at me with raised eyebrows and genuine interest. Forget Macbeth. I'm a regular Willy Loman. Grab a pen and label me an archetype.
Like I said, that's what I want. If ambition is a sin, I'm among the worst. I'm feeling like I should slow down. I've saddened someone important to me by planning to leave Mercer, a place that I've grown to love for some inexplicable reason. The barest, simplest truth is this: I'm fine graduating from either UGA or Mercer. The degrees mean the same.
Conclusions? There is only this, and this should be my new creed:
"I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
And learn by going where I have to go."
God bless you, Roethke.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Tattoo time
| Well, I've finally decided on a design for the tattoo I'm planning on. I'm still working on a good quote to go between the wings. Probably something describing the human condition. Here it is:
| ||
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Resolutions for next year
Because of the events this summer--being dumped by Kristin and not being able to hang out with certain people as a result of things connected with that situation--next year at Mercer is going to be a little tough socially. I know I can still count on Lyn and Alice, as they are great friends who have promised not to abandon me, but I still feel the need to hang out with people not so connected with Kristin. Even if none of that crap happened, it was about time for me to expand my horizons anyways. I have a few ideas to help remedy my issue.
Firstly, I'm going to much more involved on campus. I'm going to join several organizations (The Dulcimer, Young Democrats, event planning things, maybe even the school paper) and perhaps start a study group or two (Behavioral Statistics, anyone?). I need to be a little more friendly, too. That shouldn't be too hard since I've discarded a good deal of my pride.
Social issues aren't the only things I need resolved. I think I'm overloading myself and taking on too many hours. My history minor seems pretty unnecessary, and that means I'll be dropping Ancient Eastern History. Sorry, Dr. K. That brings me down to a much more manageable 15 hours.
Because of this drop in scholastic responsibility, there's a good chance I'll try to get a job either on campus or at Starbucks. The manager seemed pretty nice, and being barista trained pretty much gurauntees me a position, but I'd have to have fewer than 20 hours in order to manage my school schedule. That's life, I guess. If not, I'm just going to join more crap that sounds like fun.
I also want to help out in theater. I really miss working with my hands and making things. Some part of me likes the physical labor, and seeing my work onstage gives me a unique sort of pleasure.
For better or for worse, I'm ready for the coming school year.
Firstly, I'm going to much more involved on campus. I'm going to join several organizations (The Dulcimer, Young Democrats, event planning things, maybe even the school paper) and perhaps start a study group or two (Behavioral Statistics, anyone?). I need to be a little more friendly, too. That shouldn't be too hard since I've discarded a good deal of my pride.
Social issues aren't the only things I need resolved. I think I'm overloading myself and taking on too many hours. My history minor seems pretty unnecessary, and that means I'll be dropping Ancient Eastern History. Sorry, Dr. K. That brings me down to a much more manageable 15 hours.
Because of this drop in scholastic responsibility, there's a good chance I'll try to get a job either on campus or at Starbucks. The manager seemed pretty nice, and being barista trained pretty much gurauntees me a position, but I'd have to have fewer than 20 hours in order to manage my school schedule. That's life, I guess. If not, I'm just going to join more crap that sounds like fun.
I also want to help out in theater. I really miss working with my hands and making things. Some part of me likes the physical labor, and seeing my work onstage gives me a unique sort of pleasure.
For better or for worse, I'm ready for the coming school year.
Confessions...
I only think clearly at night.
I drive too fast.
I have a hopeless crush on someone.
I’m going to try to ignore the hopeless part and try anyways.
I wish there was a less juvenile term for “crush.”
I used to think blogging was a stupid idea.
I’m completely oblivious in a lot of situations.
I hate it when people keep things from me.
I hate kids.
I feel like all my vices are becoming passé.
I still like my vices.
I’ll often openly dislike something only to end up liking it.
I take things for granted.
I constantly struggle between hubris and humility.
I have a hard time differentiating between humility and self-deprecation.
I’ve given up on being angry.
I’m still an inherently fiery person.
I try to be Christian, but I’m a terrible person.
I have a poor self-image.
I try to be funny because it makes other people happy.
I constantly fall victim to the fallacy of misplaced concreteness.
I stay up too late.
I do things even though I know they’re bad ideas.
I don’t know whether I try too hard or not hard enough.
I rely on other people too often.
I dislike proud people.
I still have too many inhibitions.
Monday, July 10, 2006
An open letter to Starbucks patrons
Dear Starbucks patrons,
After working at Starbucks for several weeks, it seems that some clarification of the menu is in order. You seem to not be able to grasp a few simple concepts, and its about time to dispell your ignorance. Instead of going down our very lengthy menu and describing each drink, I'm going to select some of the things you guys have said and point out the problems.
Instance 1: "Why is my cappuccino so light?"
Answer: It's because you ordered a fucking cappuccino. It's literally half foam, half steamed milk and espresso. You probably wanted a latte, which only has a thin layer of foam on top, and is mostly steamed milk with a little espresso.
Instance 2: "Can I have a frappaccina?"
You mean, "May I have a frappuccino?" The answer is no, because you're stupid. I know that Starbucks likes to make up a bunch of fake Italian words, and even though watching you guys fumble through the syllables gives me the same sick joy as watching the Special Olympics, you should be able to differentiate between "a" and "o". Or perhaps I have too much misplaced faith in mankind.
Instance 3: "Add an extra shot of 'expresso'."
Once again, look carefully at the word "espresso." Do you see a "k"? A "c", perhaps? An "x"? No, you don't. That's an "s" followed by a "p". The next time one of you people asks for "expresso," I'm just going to say no.
Instance 4: "Do you guys serve plain coffee?"
I can't believe how often I hear this question. It's a coffee shop. You are surrounded by no fewer than 20 different types of beans. There are carafes behind me, as well as a coffee machine. A sign that says "now brewing" with a list of the bold, mild, and decaffienated coffees we are serving hangs on the wall behind me. There's a menu item called "coffee of the day." Your answer? No. We don't. It's all a ruse to deliberately waste your time. Good day.
Instance 5: "I want a decaf Americano."
You're completely defeating the purpose of an Americano, which is a stupid drink anyways. For those of you unfamiliar with the drink, it's espresso and water. That's it. It's meant to give you lots of caffeine. The crema is gone, and you're drinking pure bitterness. Congratulations, you've wasted three dollars.
Instance 6: "I would like an iced cappuccino."
Too bad. It's not possible. Once you figure out how to make edible, milk flavored, icy foam, please contact the bigwigs in Seattle. You're going to be very rich.
Instance 7: "You're prices are expensive"
Cry about it.
Instance 8: Aside to friend, "The stawberry frappuccino is healthier because it's got fruit in it."
You wish. It's the single most unhealthy thing on the menu. A venti stawberries and cream frappuccino with whipped cream has over 20 grams of fat and nearly 700 calories.
Instance 9: "I would like a quattro con panna and I'm going to explain to you what it is because I'm a coffee snob and you're a teenager and I automatically assume that you know nothing. Man, will this impress the girl I'm with!"
Thank you for assuming I don't know what the hell I'm doing. You're girlfriend's not impressed. You ordered 4 shots of espresso with whipped cream on it. You, sir, are an idiot. Have fun with your inch of milkfat on pure bitterness.
To be fair to those of you that honestly don't know, espresso is naturally sweet because of what's called "crema." When a shot is pulled, it looks like it's swirling and carmelly. The light bit is the crema. If a shot sits too long before it is consumed, the crema oxidizes, leaving a very bitter shot. Ordering more than two shots at a time almost ensures that the crema will oxidize. The whipped cream on top doesn't help; the milkfat stays on top and doesn't actually sweeten the espresso. The douchebag who ordered it payed nearly 4 dollars per ounce for a drink that's nearly unenjoyable. It was funny watching him try not to cringe as he drank it in front of the girl he was with.
Instance 10: "I would like an item not offered here, but I would like to sit here, make a line, irrate everyone, and do a terrible job of describing the drink."
Go to hell and die painfully. You should have gone to the other place to begin with.
That concludes this open letter. I hope that you will be marginally less ignorant next time you feel the urge to consume a Starbucks product.
Sincerely, a barista.
After working at Starbucks for several weeks, it seems that some clarification of the menu is in order. You seem to not be able to grasp a few simple concepts, and its about time to dispell your ignorance. Instead of going down our very lengthy menu and describing each drink, I'm going to select some of the things you guys have said and point out the problems.
Instance 1: "Why is my cappuccino so light?"
Answer: It's because you ordered a fucking cappuccino. It's literally half foam, half steamed milk and espresso. You probably wanted a latte, which only has a thin layer of foam on top, and is mostly steamed milk with a little espresso.
Instance 2: "Can I have a frappaccina?"
You mean, "May I have a frappuccino?" The answer is no, because you're stupid. I know that Starbucks likes to make up a bunch of fake Italian words, and even though watching you guys fumble through the syllables gives me the same sick joy as watching the Special Olympics, you should be able to differentiate between "a" and "o". Or perhaps I have too much misplaced faith in mankind.
Instance 3: "Add an extra shot of 'expresso'."
Once again, look carefully at the word "espresso." Do you see a "k"? A "c", perhaps? An "x"? No, you don't. That's an "s" followed by a "p". The next time one of you people asks for "expresso," I'm just going to say no.
Instance 4: "Do you guys serve plain coffee?"
I can't believe how often I hear this question. It's a coffee shop. You are surrounded by no fewer than 20 different types of beans. There are carafes behind me, as well as a coffee machine. A sign that says "now brewing" with a list of the bold, mild, and decaffienated coffees we are serving hangs on the wall behind me. There's a menu item called "coffee of the day." Your answer? No. We don't. It's all a ruse to deliberately waste your time. Good day.
Instance 5: "I want a decaf Americano."
You're completely defeating the purpose of an Americano, which is a stupid drink anyways. For those of you unfamiliar with the drink, it's espresso and water. That's it. It's meant to give you lots of caffeine. The crema is gone, and you're drinking pure bitterness. Congratulations, you've wasted three dollars.
Instance 6: "I would like an iced cappuccino."
Too bad. It's not possible. Once you figure out how to make edible, milk flavored, icy foam, please contact the bigwigs in Seattle. You're going to be very rich.
Instance 7: "You're prices are expensive"
Cry about it.
Instance 8: Aside to friend, "The stawberry frappuccino is healthier because it's got fruit in it."
You wish. It's the single most unhealthy thing on the menu. A venti stawberries and cream frappuccino with whipped cream has over 20 grams of fat and nearly 700 calories.
Instance 9: "I would like a quattro con panna and I'm going to explain to you what it is because I'm a coffee snob and you're a teenager and I automatically assume that you know nothing. Man, will this impress the girl I'm with!"
Thank you for assuming I don't know what the hell I'm doing. You're girlfriend's not impressed. You ordered 4 shots of espresso with whipped cream on it. You, sir, are an idiot. Have fun with your inch of milkfat on pure bitterness.
To be fair to those of you that honestly don't know, espresso is naturally sweet because of what's called "crema." When a shot is pulled, it looks like it's swirling and carmelly. The light bit is the crema. If a shot sits too long before it is consumed, the crema oxidizes, leaving a very bitter shot. Ordering more than two shots at a time almost ensures that the crema will oxidize. The whipped cream on top doesn't help; the milkfat stays on top and doesn't actually sweeten the espresso. The douchebag who ordered it payed nearly 4 dollars per ounce for a drink that's nearly unenjoyable. It was funny watching him try not to cringe as he drank it in front of the girl he was with.
Instance 10: "I would like an item not offered here, but I would like to sit here, make a line, irrate everyone, and do a terrible job of describing the drink."
Go to hell and die painfully. You should have gone to the other place to begin with.
That concludes this open letter. I hope that you will be marginally less ignorant next time you feel the urge to consume a Starbucks product.
Sincerely, a barista.
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