Rhythm in Work

A facebook friend just tagged a dead man in one of my photos. I didn't even know of his existence, or that I had "seen" him without really seeing him before. But there he was in my photo-- two of my photos actually--, and now he has passed on after his body was hit by a car a couple days ago. Strange feelings abound. I memorialized a man with my camera. Just coming out of a photography moratorium, I am driven once more to pursue this line of work/art.

Work is wonderful. There are moments when customers get on my nerves, but for the most part, I consider myself lucky to be behind that bar. It's getting busier and busier as the season progresses into winter, so it's good that I am getting better and better at hitting a stride with my regular weekend co-worker. Last week, during a very busy shift, I was facing the machine pulling shots when suddenly I heard a woman's voice behind me say "It's like a ballet!" This made me look up and come out of a "zone" that I hadn't even realized I'd been in until that moment. I saw that we were being watched like performers on a stage by our customers as they waited for their drinks. Apart from the usual compliments about our coffee and service, this had to be my favorite customer comment of all time. Rather than a ballet, working behind the bar when it is super busy can feel like being on a swing. The rhythm of teamwork is tangible. It is the presence of rhythm in a given process that makes it comparable to an art like dance or music.

It occurred to me later that night that the entire process of working behind the bar at LC is a creation from nothing. There was no absolute rule that governed the process of making and serving coffee; no rule that placed one at the register and the other at the machines; no rule that governed how to deal with dirty dishes and spoons; no rule that detailed how the person at the register was supposed to assist the person at the machines and vice versa, and when. And so on. Nothing had to be the way it was, but because of the way the machines and other equipment were set up, and the given roles and the way the roles were trained to interact, a process was created that eventually came to be regarded as a dance by one customer.

A New Friend

I picked up the cello last night. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful...friendship.

If there's a cello lying around the house, one should learn to play it, yes? Yes indeed!

I struck my first note (a low C). "It sounds like a boat!" were the first words that flew out of my mouth.

Who picks up the cello at the age of 26? But then again, who picks up ballet at the age of 25? I, I.

I begin with Bach's Suite. It's gonna be my one-hit wonder.

Immunized & Primal

Longtime customer of LC wanders into the back kitchen. "Hey, do you need a flu shot?"

This year, I got immunized while perched atop the metal milk repository in the back kitchen of my coffeeshop. This is the best health care I've had since turning 18. After getting injected, I went back to chowing down on the most delicious falafel I've ever had.

Today was a good day. I got to open with Goosebumps. Endowed with an incredible ability to read my mind and mood, he makes me feel safe and taken care of. As soon as he goes on break to chow down on his own falafel, I set the pot of coffee dripping into the to-go cup, and forgot to watch it while grinding beans and ringing up the register. Coffee flowed all over the counter.

The day just got better as it aged into night. I was on my A-game in the best modern jazz class I've had yet. The teacher had beautiful form-- simultaneously powerful and dainty--, she didn't fuck around, she nitpicked, and she broke down the steps in an easily digestible way. The music was haunting and moving, and the choreography style was very Koresh-- lyrical and primal. Always the touch of jungle fever.

Ballet never leaves my bones, but here, in a modern class, it was important to move more instinctively. Also important to associate key movements with count as Kip always reminds us and not try to fix everything at once and consequently get overwhelmed and lost.

As I walked home from my usual evening study hall at the gelato shop, I swung the world by the tail and bounced over the white clouds, a la Allison Krauss and Robert Plant.

Red-Eyed Tree Frog

Why you should be fascinated by red-eyed tree frogs:

(a) They are living mood rings. Normally a bright lurid lime green, depending on their mood they can change to dark green or a reddish-brown. Obviously, frogs only have three kinds of moods: happy, sad, and jumpy! Besides the green, their sides are striped by blue and white bands, and their feet are red or orange. They really are beautiful creatures.

(b) Sometimes, they eat smaller frogs. Can you imagine if humans ate smaller human beings? I would not live to tell the tale.

(c) They (and frogs in general) are an indicator species. Because of their ultra-sensitivity to changes in their environment, if anything is wrong, frogs are the first to feel the effects. If you hear less ribbiting at night, it means your ecosystem is not so healthy.

(d) Contrary to what their freakishly red eyes might lead you to believe, they are not poisonous. The color is used as a startling mechanism.

(e) They look funny and adorable. Bulging eyes, wide mouth, flat head...cuter than your average chihuahua.

I became curious about red-eyed tree frogs after a meeting at my coffeeshop with a Rainforest Alliance representative. The meeting was casual, yet informative, and now I know what to tell my customers when they ask if our beans are "Fair Trade certified". Answer: "No, but we are Rainforest Alliance certified. Check out the cute froggie sticker on our packaging!"

H Sound

Semitic languages are so interesting in both structure and sound. I love the deep throaty H sound of Arabic (like the sound you make when blowing on your glasses before wiping them). Such a beautiful, breathy, yet full sound coming from deep within. It's a shame the English language lacks such a sound.

Initiated

I just worked my 5th shift in a row at LC. I feel like a real barista now, especially since during this last shift, Handlebars entrusted me with making the drinks for half the time. Also during this last shift, one of the signature ceramic cups shattered and drew blood from my right middle finger. I feel initiated. Welcome to the LC baristahood, Angie Chung.

Union

How strange! I can hear my heart beating through my ipod! My heartbeat melds with the strains of Tchaikovky's Violin Concerto. This piece of music is so unbelievably gorgeous and exalting at times that it makes me want to scream or cry-- or some other form of release from this corpus cage.

Consumed

Lately, I've been struck with this fine idea that I'm spending the next few years or many years in anticipation and preparation for the homecoming of whoever I'm destined to be with. It's a wonderful idea. I'm not wondering, I'm simply waiting. The difference is the element of inevitability contained in the latter, and the lack of it in the former.

In the meantime, my study of ballet has taken on a level of seriousness that I never would have predicted not a year ago. I go to class nearly every day, practice and stretch for another hour (sometimes more) after each class, then go to my favorite gelato palace to take notes and think about ballet for awhile before cracking opening my Arabic book. It's become rather obsessive, I admit, and all-consuming. Absolute bliss.

Because of this all-consuming dedication to ballet, I am left with little time for socializing, and so find myself leading a rather solitary life of late. In another lifetime, this would have bothered me greatly, but nowadays, I am driven more by a sense of purpose than by a desire for camaraderie. It's a different sort of fun.