Irony. 
To continue the saga concerning my attempts at a "Fresh Brewed Life".  I did begin to read the book.  I took its advice.  I bought a handsome leather bound journal and periodically pour myself into it.  It is becoming a regular part of my routine but occasionally the days slip by before I realize the ink from a past entry was dry for quite some time.  I digress, back to the book.  I listened to the words pouring from the pages my eyes gripping onto anything that may engolf and sweep away the sharp sting still clinging.  I had questions that needed answers and I was foolish enough to think that by analyzing a self help text I would uncover what I needed.  I spent hours a day reading and re-reading passages.  I participated in the guided journaling and during one entry it dawned on me what the process felt like... 

Homework.  In that very second, sitting at my dining room table still sleepy and comfy in pajamas and bath robe with my first cup of coffee and an open journal I was transported back into Mr. Sandler's second grade classroom.  The sterile smell of a man who had long ago forgotten how to have fun settled like a thick cloud of smog in my mind.  The yellow stained smile of a man who smoked too much grew vivid and the figure emerged holding out to me that damn manilla envelope full of worksheets that I hadan't completed during the week. 
*flash* The same second grade me sitting at my grandparents dining room table feet dangling away from the floor, head in my hands, eracer bits everywhere and tears in my eyes trying to finish worksheets that I cared nothing about became the next vivid memory to settle.  Question after question... "If Johnny has three apples and Suzy has four apples and Billy has eleven apples and John comes up and takes two of Billy's and three of Suzy's and all of Johnny's how many apples would he have?"  Who cares?  I was hungry and had no apples.
 *flash*  I was back in that horrible classroom writing a "journal entry" about a field trip we just took during which I was made to sit in the back of the bus again becuase I asked too many questions and pointed out too many things during the ride that no one else cared about.  Prompted journal entries take me back to that.  The first teacher who told me I was going on where in life.  What this all reminded me of was my intense hatred of homework...and apples.  Apples aside, homework always got in the way.  In the second grade it got in the way of me going on troll hunts with my grandfather and sister, impromptu horseback riding, or anything that didn't include sitting at that dining room table.  Homework is usually just busy work and I hate busy work.
 

The flashes through the less than appealing memories of years past happened so quickly.  I understand now what people mean when they say their life flashed before their eyes and my flash was just a little blip.  Long story short I never finished the book.  My progress through the literature of "Fresh Brewed Life " was interupted by, well, life: persueing my graduate degree, the tutoring, and something new.  I got preoccupied by my job, a new job...at Starbucks.  I will allow a moment for the irony of the situation to set in.  I set the busy work aside and set off to do something else.  My fresh brewed life would start out every day by brewing fresh coffee and selling it to other wayward journey takers who are finding their way through the world.  Mainly it's just U of M students.  But that's okay.  This is still the beginning...


The beginning of closing one chapter and discovering another.  I choose the word discovering because life is nothing like a book.  Comparing life to a book implies that it is nice and neat with bound pages, neatly draw illustrations and the chapters are all neatly labled and following directly after one another the way the ought to.  But you and I , dear friend, know that life is more or less of an easter egg hunt where the eggs containing the chapters of our lives and what is to come next are camouflaged as rocks, bits of seaweed, newpapers in rubbish bins, etc all within an obstacle course resembling something of demlititarized zones abbutting the little house on the prarie but right now I am in Starbucks.  I am working in Starbucks allowing my fresh brewed life to unfold itself through the decisions I make and the people I interact with.  For example, a while ago I decided to apply fora Graduate Teaching Assistantship and just recieved word that I got it.  A new chapter?  Do chapters overlap?  Why not?