Full disclosure: I love Starbucks. I know I shouldn't. Logically, I do know that paying close to $5 for a (usually) nutritionless drink is foolish and that my money would be better spent on booze. I realize my Starbucks addiction makes me, to many, an evil elitist capitalist pig, to blame for all the woe in the world...But I can't help it. There is something so delightful about striding up to a mid-twenties hipster who's twitching from the eight cups of Americano he's had and ordering a venti extra hot half-sweet half-caf non-fat vanilla hazelnut latte with extra foam* that I just can't give it up, try as I might.
So there you go: I love Starbucks, and have as long as I can remember.
But it's not just about the coffee. It's about the brilliant marketing, too. Starbucks caters to those of us who consider ourselves intelligent and cultured. Their cafe's encourage us to sit and relax, read the paper (free in store!), listen to some good music (recorded on the new Starbucks record label!), and meet with friends for stimulating conversation ("The new Coen brothers film? Adored it! But what a stinker that Atonement was! At least there was James McAvoy to look at!"). That being said, it came as no surprise when Starbucks launched "The Way I See It," a collection of quotes from noted thinkers and artists (and even some regular folk like you and me) which appear on the side of each hot cup.
I love these quotes. They do, as intended, often spark discussions. The Starbucks website suggests these discussions should be "good" and "healthy," which is probably why I have yet to find quotes from Sarah Silverman, Karl Marx, or Ann Coulter on the side of my morning venti extra hot half-sweet half-caf non-fat vanilla hazelnut latte with extra foam.* On the contrary, most of the quotes I've come across have been pretty innocuous adages from the likes of Al Gore, Gloria Steinem, and....Newt Gingrich?? Wait a minute...
Yes folks, today's quote came from US Republican Newt Gingrich. Upon reading the quote, I thought, "Hmmm. This is interesting." And then, mere seconds later, "What the f*ck does this mean?" I leave you with the quote in it's entirety; I'd love to hear your ideas of just what he is talking about, because I'm in a liberal arts programs studying ideas, and I ain't seen any guns yet. Can't we all just get along?
"On the battlefield of ideas, winning requires moving toward the sound of the guns."
*Please note: I have never before ordered this drink in reality. I only drink 2%.
Sunday, January 27
Thursday, January 17
Objects In The Rear View Mirror....
What is it about the past? This is a question that has been floating through my mind a lot lately, for I find myself bombarded with beautiful, but unwanted thoughts of people and experiences long gone from my life. And I've been giving into those memories, and in some cases actively nurturing them, even though I know that they have the potential to make a mess of now.
Why?
Robert Fulford gave the 1999 Massey Lectures (a really fantastic series!) about the human need to tell stories as a means of understanding our lives, and I think that has something to do with it. From the beginning of humanity - yes, even before "civilization" - people have used storytelling as a way by which to explain the world and our place in it. Why should modern man be any different? The fact that today we have people like filmmakers and authors who are paid to tell us stories does not discount the individual desire to make sense of our lives.
But what about when making sense of the past turns into nostalgia? Is there any way to guard against it? Nostalgia is a pretty dangerous thing, or at least it has been in my life. Don't get me wrong - I'm relatively content in my current situation - but there have been times that, in retrospect, look like complete perfection. I find it alarmingly easy to slip into yearning for those times, and that yearning tends to stall (at the very least) any new endeavours in my life.
As Jim Brickman wrote in the immortal Meatloaf classic, "objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are," and the times my mind most likes to return to were so long ago that it seems almost indecent to still revel in the feelings they elicit in me. I've begun to think that those feelings aren't particularly genuine, and that perhaps nostalgia is merely a trick played by mind that is frightened to step into the new. There's only one way to find out. Take that step....
Why?
Robert Fulford gave the 1999 Massey Lectures (a really fantastic series!) about the human need to tell stories as a means of understanding our lives, and I think that has something to do with it. From the beginning of humanity - yes, even before "civilization" - people have used storytelling as a way by which to explain the world and our place in it. Why should modern man be any different? The fact that today we have people like filmmakers and authors who are paid to tell us stories does not discount the individual desire to make sense of our lives.
But what about when making sense of the past turns into nostalgia? Is there any way to guard against it? Nostalgia is a pretty dangerous thing, or at least it has been in my life. Don't get me wrong - I'm relatively content in my current situation - but there have been times that, in retrospect, look like complete perfection. I find it alarmingly easy to slip into yearning for those times, and that yearning tends to stall (at the very least) any new endeavours in my life.
As Jim Brickman wrote in the immortal Meatloaf classic, "objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are," and the times my mind most likes to return to were so long ago that it seems almost indecent to still revel in the feelings they elicit in me. I've begun to think that those feelings aren't particularly genuine, and that perhaps nostalgia is merely a trick played by mind that is frightened to step into the new. There's only one way to find out. Take that step....
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