life

Exit 196. Maybe “reality television” isn’t such a misnomer after all.

A few days ago, I was watching this week’s episode of Survivor, and that got me wondering about things.  Specifically, it got me thinking about the fact that I’m still watching Survivor 18 years after the show’s premiere.  It seems that many of the show’s early fans have long since turned away, saying that it has become boring and repetitive, not offering anything new.

Survivor debuted in the USA in the summer of 2000.  It was an adaptation of a similar show from Europe.  Each game of Survivor lasts for around 13 episodes.  A group of 16 to 20 contestants go to some remote location and compete in games and challenges, win prizes, and gradually vote players out of the game until only one remains to win the grand prize of a million dollars.  I wasn’t hooked right away.  At the time of the first season, I was just finishing my first year as a full time teacher, and I lived in Davis.  (Now that I think about it, Survivor has been on so long that I have watched new episodes of Survivor from seven of the eleven different places where I’ve lived in my life.  I believe the only show that can surpass that is The Simpsons, which I have watched from every house, apartment, or dorm room where I’ve ever lived.)  Anyway, I watched it maybe five times during that initial season, but a couple months later, CBS replayed the entire season over the course of two weeks, to compete with NBC’s prime-time footage of the Sydney Olympics, and I watched every episode but one.  The next season started the following spring, and ever since then CBS has broadcast two seasons of Survivor per calendar year, one in the fall and one in the spring (so the current game of Survivor is the 36th).

In 2012, the year that I lived with the non-delusional roommate, one time he came home while I was watching Survivor.  He made a disapproving comment; I was having a bad day, and I told him I didn’t want to hear it.  A few days later, I came home and caught him watching WWE wrestling… I said, “How about this. I don’t give you a hard time for watching WWE, and you don’t give me a hard time for watching Survivor.”  He replied with a counter-proposal: “I can give you a hard time for Survivor, but you can give me a hard time for WWE too.”  I said I could live with that.

A few weeks later, he was watching WWE again.  He said something like, “I think what I like so much about wrestling is the way there are some guys that you just love to hate, and you can’t wait to watch them lose.”  I thought about this, and I said, “Now that you mention it, that’s one of the things I like about Survivor too.”

The show has evolved quite a bit since its beginnings.  Most of the more recent seasons have included additional twists, such as players changing teams before they merge into one tribe, hidden immunity idols (i.e., a player can use it to make them immune from being voted out) or other advantages waiting for players to find, and exile, in which one player gets removed from the game for a day (but usually with a chance to win some other sort of advantage while exiled).  Some seasons have included players who have played before getting second (or third or fourth) chances to play under different circumstances.  Some contestants have already been minor celebrities in their own right before competing on Survivor.  I have mixed feelings about contestants who aren’t just ordinary people, although if such contestants are familiar to me, it sometimes gives me someone to root for, or against, before the season even starts.

The trend in broadcasting at the time was toward unscripted shows, dubbed “reality telivision” by the media and culture.  Many people criticized the genre of “reality shows,” justifiably, for not being reality at all, usually putting people in contrived situations and editing footage to play up caricatures and stereotypes.  My problem with the label of “reality show” is that the concept of a show being unscripted is way too broad to make a statement about whether you like or dislike a genre of television, so when people say they do or don’t like reality shows, that doesn’t really mean much.  It’s as empty of a label as “alternative rock” was in the 90s.  Just because I like Survivor doesn’t mean I’m going to like every unscripted show.  When you really look at it, Survivor is basically a game show.  It doesn’t center around trivia, guessing words with letters missing, or knowing how much things cost, but you have contestants competing for prizes, and that makes it a game show.

And even though it isn’t exactly reality, in the sense that the situations are contrived and we only see what the producers want us to see, there’s a lot more reality happening on Survivor than on most game shows.  The contestants never know what is going to happen.  Sometimes the players will switch tribes, leaving someone without allies, or bringing a new opportunity to someone who had no allies before.  Sometimes your allies will turn on you because it is advantageous to their game.  Sometimes the particular competition might play well to certain players’ strengths.  Sometimes someone will just get a break out of nowhere, by discovering a hidden clue or advantage.  Players need to make the most of what they have right now in order to get as far in the game as they can, but without pissing off too many people, because some of the players voted out are the ones who decide the winner in the end.

And all of this happens in real life too.  Sometimes the people you are closest with leave you because of circumstances beyond any of your control, such as when your friends move away because of a family member’s new job.  Sometimes new friends suddenly appear.  Sometimes your so-called friends are jerks and they turn on you when they think they don’t need you anymore.  Sometimes certain challenges in life are just easier for some people than others, just because of the way we all have different strengths and weaknesses.  Sometimes you just get lucky.  But no matter what happens in life, you always need to make the most of what you have right now in order to make the best life you can, without pissing off too many people.

Sure sounds like real life to me.  Maybe “reality television” isn’t such a misnomer after all.  But either way, I’m still going to call Survivor what it is to me: one of the best game shows ever.

Advertisements

Exit 187. In an unfriending mood.

So I could be sitting here writing about how much I don’t care about this year’s Super Bowl, because I don’t particularly care for either of these two teams, and because I’m a little disgusted at the state of the NFL with all the protests and stuff like that.  But I kind of wrote about that already last year, when I also didn’t care much about the game.  I just now missed the Super Bowl kickoff by a few seconds because I was peeing; I suppose that says a lot about my level of interest in this game.

So instead, I’ll write about something else, continuing my post from last week.  Where we left off a week ago, I was contemplating unfriending some people on Facebook.  I had six people in mind specifically when I wrote that, and about a day after I posted, I pulled the proverbial trigger and unfriended five of them.  It felt like time to burn those bridges.  I’m a little hesitant to write this, because I feel like I’m airing other people’s dirty laundry behind their backs.  I generally feel that if you have a problem with someone, the best approach is to go to their face and have a conversation.  And I didn’t do this.  I thought about it, because I would have wanted to know why if someone was unfriending me.  But I didn’t, because I didn’t want to open myself up to any more hurt or disappointment.  Also, I’m going to write mostly in generalities, so I’m not gossiping behind anyone’s back.

I know that at least one of the people involved here used to read this blog occasionally a long time ago, and I know that the person on the chopping block who I decided not to cut off reads this sometimes as well.  On the off chance that you, reader, are one of those who got unfriended and you feel the need to confront me, you know how to find me.  I apologize for not talking to you first.  But be aware that I might not reply right away, or at all.  I don’t know if I’ll be ready to have that conversation.  I”m feeling hurt and confused about a lot of things right now.

Three of the people involved, my issue with them stems to an incident that happened approximately two years ago.  I talked to all of them around that time, and one of the people I was even on somewhat good terms with again for a while, before this person found another social circle to associate with and we grew apart naturally.  The main reason I cut off contact abruptly is because I wanted absolutely no lingering hope that things would ever again be the way they used to be.  Because they won’t.  These people are not who I once thought they were, and they have disappointed me one too many times.  I know that I should let things go after this much time.  But it’s hard, especially given the nature of what happened.  I feel too deeply, I care too much, and my life is not such that I can easily move on from this kind of thing and find other people to fill the void.

One of the other people is someone who mostly posts angry political rants against people like me.  There are lots of people who I have unfollowed for this reason, but kept on my friends list, just in case, and they don’t make me consistently angry.  And the fifth is his wife; I have no direct reason for unfriending her, except that I don’t really know her in a context apart from her husband.  So why unfriend them and not simply unfollow them?  I honestly can’t give a good answer for this.  I think part of it was just that I was in an unfriending mood after unfriending the three people I mentioned above.  Also, the way I know them, the role they played in my life, is one where the fact that this guy posts so many immature and angry political rants makes me particularly sensitive to what is going on.

I know that some of my friends are still friends with some of these people.  If you know who I’m talking about, I don’t have a problem with any of you staying friends with them, of course.  And don’t stop inviting me to things just because one of the people I unfriended might be there.  I’ll put on my big boy pants and deal with that when it comes up.

I might be willing to go into more detail in private conversations, but that’s all I’ll say publicly.  Maybe someday I’ll feel healed and ready to move on.  Part of me wants to say that maybe someday I’ll be on good terms again with all of these people, but honestly, I don’t know if that’s best, and I don’t know if that’s what I want.

Exit 186. The voice of a ghost singing words a quarter-century old recently pushed me to make a difficult decision.

The voice of a ghost singing words a quarter-century old recently pushed me to make a difficult decision.

Okay, I suppose that’s explaining it in an overdramatic way.  Let me back up and explain.  A couple weeks ago, Irish musician Dolores O’Riordan died unexpectedly.  Ms. O’Riordan was best known for being the lead vocalist of the band The Cranberries, who had three big hits in my late teens.  At least that was my extent of Cranberries knowledge over the years.  (I should point out, though, that as friends started posting Cranberries music on social media as tributes to Ms. O’Riordan, I found a couple more of their songs that I recognized.)  They weren’t one of my favorites back then; I was mostly neutral toward their music.  I always liked the song “Dreams,” although I don’t think I ever knew the title until maybe five years ago when I was expanding my collection of 90s music for making retro gaming playlists.  I had completely forgotten about “Zombie” from some time in the 90s until seeing someone perform it at a karaoke bar in 2015, but that is a good one too.  The third song of theirs that I remember, however, was definitely my least favorite of the three, and ironically, those are the quarter-century-old words that I’m writing about today.

I hate trying to interpret song lyrics, because I was always bad at interpreting poems in high school English class.  But the way I’m reading this one seems pretty straightforward: the narrator has been treated badly by a significant other, but her feelings for him still linger.

So what does that have to do with me?  I may not have been treated badly, or treated others badly, in the specific ways described in the song lyrics, but I understand that sense of feelings lingering from both sides.  And I did something about one side this week: specifically, the point of view of the other character in the song, not the narrator.  I called someone I met on Christian Mingle and told her that I just didn’t feel like we were clicking.  It’s hard for me to do that, because I often can’t pinpoint a specific reason for it.  She didn’t do anything wrong, but I just didn’t really feel like she was someone I could see myself spending my life with.  And I didn’t want her to have to feel like she was wasting her time with me.  And as much as that hurts on both sides, I think that’s better than pretending to make something happen when I know I’m not feeling it and stretching the heartbreak out over several months.  (This makes me think I should link to another relevant song here, this one not having any direct Cranberries connections, but it does use the word “linger” in the same context – by the way, I saw this band live for the third time last week, they didn’t play this song but it was an AMAZING SHOW!!!)

I’m wondering if there are other lingering issues I need to deal with (double meaning, issues related to old feelings lingering… lingering issues of lingering, if you will).  In this case, I’m more like the other perspective of the song, the narrator dealing with her lingering feelings for someone who doesn’t care for her in return.  In particular, I have a lot of people I’m still in social media contact with whom I’m not sure if I should be in contact with anymore.  Some of these are people I knew in the past who mostly just post angry political and/or anti-Christian stuff that I don’t agree with.  Some of these are people whom I’ve had various issues or hurtful experiences with in the past. Some of them are acquaintances from certain social circles who are just arrogant jerks.  Most of the people in question here I have at least unfollowed on Facebook, so I don’t have to think about them any more than necessary, but that begs the question, what purpose would it serve to unfriend them completely?  If I don’t see these people anymore in real life, and I have things set such that I don’t see their posts on social media, is it necessary to take any more steps?

It might be.  It might help me find closure in my mind and put a stop to the lingering (there’s that word again) issues once and for all.  But, as I’ve said before, maybe I’m overthinking social media here, but I find it hard to cut people off like that.  If you are my Facebook friend, that means there was a time when I wanted you in my life, and it’s hard to let go of the hope that we’ll never be close again.  But maybe it’s necessary to let go of that.  There are people that I once hoped to be close with, but realized that I didn’t want to after all once I saw what they were really like.  And there were people I was once close with, but then they changed, and my hope is that I might once again someday be close with who they were before, not with who they are now.

So I don’t know.  I don’t have an answer for how to deal with these situations.  But it’s something I should be thinking and praying about.  I need to take care of myself, and it isn’t healthy to let people linger in my life who are causing more harm than good and probably won’t change.

Exit 184. Doing nothing.

I just spent an entire three-day weekend doing nothing.

And it was great.

The world went on without me.  There were lots of opinions over politics and political figures.  One of my teams kept finding new ways to lose.  There was another death of a celebrity whom I associate with my coming-of-age years.

And I did nothing.

I didn’t leave the house much this weekend.  I went to church, I went to one of the places where I used to go dancing regularly, I met a friend for lunch, I went for a 27-mile bike ride, and I walked around the big park in my neighborhood catching Pokémon.  And that’s it.  The rest of the time I was home, sleeping, reading, or playing retro video games.

It was the best weekend I’ve had in a long time.  I should do nothing more often.  Yay for taking care of myself.

Have a great week, friends.

 

Exit 183. I learned something new.

I’ve been seeing an interesting news item that keeps coming up: Apparently, starting on January 1, gas stations in rural parts of Oregon are now allowed to offer self serve pumps.

If you don’t live in Oregon or New Jersey or haven’t spent a lot of time there, you may be wondering why this is news, or why this is even a thing.  Here’s why.  Until this week, it has been illegal to pump your own gasoline in Oregon.  (There is a similar law in New Jersey, which is why I mentioned it, but nothing else in this week’s post relates directly to New Jersey.)  Drivers in the other 48 states, which contain about 96 percent of the population of the United States, regularly use gas pumps without any major incidents or adverse effects.  But for some reason which I haven’t researched thoroughly, these two states decided that they would prefer to place the act of pumping gas in the hands of people who actually work for the gas stations.  (A quick Google search suggests that it was historically for safety reasons, since pumping gas involves working with hazardous flammable substances.)

At any rate, the Internet exploded with Oregonians complaining about the inconvenience and safety hazards of pumping their own gasoline, or  bragging about how they don’t know how to pump their own gas, and suggesting this is a job better left for trained professionals.  And the memes followed soon after this.  I can’t tell (Poe’s Law) if these are actual complaints by actual Oregonians afraid to pump their own gas or trolls mocking them.  Probably a mix of both.

There are two important points being missed here, the first of which is what the law actually says.  It says that gas stations IN RURAL COUNTIES have the OPTION of allowing self-service gasoline.  Most Oregonians do not live in the areas affected, by the definition of “rural.”  And any rural gas station can still offer the option of having an attendant pump gas.  This was the norm everywhere until the mid-20th century.  So why do self-service gas stations exist in the first place?  It costs less to not have to pay an attendant.  As automobile travel became more common, more people preferred paying less, even if it meant pumping their own gas, and full-service gas stations either went out of business or stopped offering that service, because so few people were willing to pay extra for it.  This is exactly how capitalism and the free market is supposed to work.  There is nothing stopping someone from opening a full-service gas station in one of the 48 states that allow self-service pumps, except for the fact that in most areas, they probably would not get enough customers to stay open.  It’s just like how there is nothing stopping someone from opening a video rental store or an ice block delivery service so people can keep their food cold.  They just would not get many customers in this era.

As for the second important point… story time.  The setting is a self-service gas station in Davis, California, in the fall of 1994.  I think it was the Chevron station on Anderson Road at the corner of West Covell Boulevard, across the street from Save Mart (which was Lucky at the time and was Albertson’s for a while in between).  I was 18, on my own for the first time.  A few weeks earlier, I had moved from my parents’ house into a dorm that doesn’t exist anymore on the UC Davis campus, and at the time, students who lived in undergraduate dorms were still allowed to park cars at the dorms (although it cost extra).  I needed to fill my tank for the first time, and when I got to the gas station, I realized I had no idea what to do.  I had been driving for two years, but I had never had to fill my own tank.  My family pretty much had all shared one car for much of the two years I had been driving.  On the few occasions when we needed two different cars for different family members to be in different places, we would borrow a car from either Grandma or Grandpa, who were retired and in their 70s at the time and still both had cars despite not using them all that often.  (Grandpa passed away in 2003, but Grandma is still alive at 97 and still has the same 1986 Oldsmobile Cutlass, I think, although now on its last proverbial legs.  And I might be off by a couple years on the car model year.)

The point is that I was never made responsible for filling my own tank.  Someone else would always do it for me.  Besides not having a car that was entirely my own, I also grew up in a fairly sheltered family, where I was not often forced to learn and experience new things.  I don’t remember exactly what I did that afternoon in 1994; I think I parked, found a pay phone, and called home, panicky, asking what to do.  And through some combination of listening to Mom or Dad and reading instructions, I figured it out.  I filled my own gas tank.  No one died, there was no explosion.  Instead, although I may not have realized it, I felt accomplished.  I learned something new.  And that’s part of growing up: learning new life skills, so I don’t have to have someone do everything for me forever.

So maybe those people who live in areas affected by this new law should embrace the challenge instead of complaining about it.  They get to join the other 96% of the population and learn how to do something useful.  Trust me… you’ll feel good about yourself once you do.

Now that I’ve finished writing this week’s post early, I’m going to go run some errands, one of which will be getting gas.

Exit 182. Unfinished business.

Author Sue Grafton died last week.  Ms. Grafton is best known for writing the Kinsey Millhone books; those are the ones with the letters in the titles, A is for AlibiB is for Burglar, and all the way up to Y is for Yesterday which was just published in 2017.  Ms. Grafton was already in her 40s when she started the Kinsey Millhone series, after having written two other novels and working for many years as a screenplay writer.  She was 77 at the time of her passing.

I’ve written before about being a fan of this series, and how I came to discover these books.  I just read Y is for Yesterday a few months ago, and I just reread it this month.  Knowing that Z is for Zero (the tentative title) will never be published gives me a sense of unfinished business.  Ms. Grafton made it clear in numerous interviews that she never wanted to work with a ghost writer or have anyone else have control over her characters, and it would be wrong not to respect her wishes.  But at the same time, it feels kind of wrong to leave the series incomplete.

I’ve been thinking a lot about unfinished business in my own life.  Much of my lack of inner peace comes back to this in some way.  I never got to be a normal teenager with friends and parties and a silly puppy-love girlfriend.  I never got to marry my college sweetheart and start a family in my 20s and take my kids to Sunday school.  If I could go back and do high school and college again knowing what I know now about people and socializing and the world, I might not have ended up stuck in this limbo.  And some of the relationships and relationship-like experiences I’ve had might have worked out better if we had met at a different time or in a different place.

So how do I deal with this?  There is only so much I can do in the first place.  Things happen that don’t give closure; that’s just life.  People die with their life work unfinished.  People change and leave others behind for no apparent reason.  Everyone’s life is full of what-ifs, and dwelling on them only brings pain, so I need to learn to make a conscious effort not to dwell on these things.

Dealing with this might also mean unfollowing certain people on social media whose posts reflect the kind of supposedly perfect life that I’ll never have.  But it’s definitely going to have to mean being honest with myself, taking a long, hard look at my life, and figuring out two important things: what exactly it is that I really want, and how to work with what I have.  Just because I can never have what I once thought to be the perfect life or the perfect relationship doesn’t mean that there are no good options left for me.  But as I said, I need to figure out what those options are, and I need to figure out what it is that I want in the first place.

I just wish I didn’t sound so repetitive.  Much of this I’ve written before.  How long will it take me to make real changes?

 

Exit 180. 180.

I’m going to keep it short this week.

I’m currently rereading the novel Ready Player One by Ernest Cline, for at least the fifth time.  Yes, I loved it that much, which is why I have ambiguous feelings about the upcoming movie adaptation.

I’m excited, because one of my favorite books is being made into a movie.  I’m apprehensive, because there will inevitably be changes mare from the book to the movie. The book had so many little details, and surely many of them won’t make it into the movie.  I hope the changes don’t ruin the movie for me.

I’ve written in here before (once, twice) about my favorite quote from the book, and today I got to that part again in my rereading: “Like any classic video game, the Hunt had simply reached a new, more difficult level. A new level often required an entirely new strategy.”  As I said in those previous posts, I can understand what Wade is going through here.  In order to accomplish his goal and take down IOI’s corporate bigwigs, he needs a radically different strategy.  And as my life has changed over time, I need a radically different strategy too.  I’ve had a hard time figuring this out, partially because I’ve had a hard time letting go of some things.

I’m not going to rehash what I’ve written about before; I’m just going to say that the timing of this is interesting.  A new year is coming up in a few weeks, and new years are often seen as times of change and renewal, a good time to try a new strategy for life.  And this is post number 180 on this blog.  The number 180 (as in 180 degrees of rotation) has entered English slang to mean a complete turnaround.  And that’s what I need.  I need to go in a different direction, at least in some parts of life.  Maybe not a complete 180, but definitely not the way I’ve been going.

What that means, however, is still in question.  And to find that, I’m going to need a lot of quiet reflection and prayer.  And a willingness to try new things.

Exit 177. What am I going to do with the rest of the afternoon?

When I got home from church this morning, one of the first things that ran through my mind was, What am I going to do with the rest of the afternoon?

A number of options went through my mind.  I had about an hour and a half of grading papers that I brought home.  That had to get done at some point.  But that left much of the afternoon and evening still unaccounted for.  So I started thinking.  I have a project I’m working on in the yard little by little.  I could work on that.  Or I could go for a long walk and play Pokémon.  Or I could go take my bike to get fixed, again.  I need to find a new bike shop, again.  Every single bike shop at my end of town either doesn’t exist anymore or has screwed me over in some way.  The most recent one I’ve been to twice for major repairs, and both times, something went wrong again a few rides later.  But that’s another story, and the bike is at least still rideable.  I haven’t been riding much, though, because either I’ve been busy or it’s been raining.

But I digress.

I decided to do exactly none of these (except for grading, since that had to be done).  I’ve been stressed and busy a lot lately, I have things on my mind that I need to process, and I need a day to myself to relax.  So that’s what I’ve been doing.  And it has been a wonderful afternoon and evening.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my USA readers, or to anyone else who wishes to take time to be thankful and celebrate family and friends.

Exit 175. It’s not too late for a comeback.

I have a lot of my mind right now.  None of it is ready to be a full post on here.  And now I’ve forgotten what I was actually going to write about.

Oh yeah… Two big things happened in my world this week: the end of the Major League Baseball World Series, and Halloween.  My team wasn’t in it, but if you know me, and you know how baseball works, you can figure out who I was going for.  The series went the maximum possible number of games, seven (for my unbaseballed readers, the champion is the first team to win four games, therefore the maximum length is seven games).  After around game 3, I predicted it would probably go seven games, because these two teams were so good, and so many of their games had been close, going back and forth.

I tried to keep my mouth shut.  I have very strong feelings against one of the teams that was involved this year, but I know people who like that team, and even though sometimes I want to feel differently, my rational thinking side still believes that supporting different teams is not in and of itself a good reason to lose friends.  At times during this series, I really tried hard to stay calm and keep quiet and not say anything.  I had the game on while I was handing out candy to trick-or-treaters.  The game was visible from the front door, and a few people asked me how the game was going.  I had some choice words for the dad waiting at the sidewalk wearing the jersey of the team I wanted to lose, but I was good and kept them to myself.

One important reminder to take away from this Series is that there is always hope, no matter how gloomy and pointless things can seem.  Many of these games featured one team taking an early lead, only to have the other team come roaring back later.  I often feel like life has me beaten down… but as long as I’m still breathing, it’s not too late for a comeback.  Play ball.

Exit 171. Assumptions need to be challenged.

A couple weeks ago, I was asked to help out with something at school.  I was prepared for the possibility about a week in advance, and I said sure, because it was not anything particularly taxing.  Given the circumstances, which aren’t really relevant here, it was not going to be known until the last minute if they needed my help.  (This essentially involved a contingency plan, because a guest speaker was unexpectedly in a situation where she may have had to cancel unexpectedly.)  And sure enough, at the last minute they asked me to do what I had prepared for.

As I was leaving work that day (it was a Thursday), the principal thanked me again for my help, and my willingness to step up.  She said to send her an email with my favorite Starbucks drink, and I did.  Vanilla bean frappuccino.  As I’ve said multiple times before, I don’t like coffee.  I can’t handle the taste of coffee.  I tried, back in the ’90s when hanging out at the coffee shop was all the rage.  A couple times, I ordered coffee drinks with lots of stuff in them to make them taste better, and I couldn’t finish them because I could still taste the coffee.

Friday morning, during my first period class, the principal walks in with my drink.  I smile and say thank you, even though I can see right away that it is not a vanilla bean frappuccino.  Maybe one of my Starbucks employee friends can help me out here, since Starbucks isn’t an option yet on Google Translate… the label said “Gr Cafe Vn Frapp.”  My guess is that it was similar to my desired vanilla bean frappuccino, but with iced coffee too.

I mentioned, with students in earshot, that this wasn’t the drink I ordered.  But I really did not want to be unappreciative.   So I took a sip.  Not great, but not as bad as I expected.  I stirred in the whipped cream, which made one student tell me I was doing it wrong because I have to drink the whipped cream first.  But stirring in the whipped cream made it taste better.

I finished the whole drink.

I drank a coffee drink.  The whole thing.  For the first time in my life.

I’m probably not going to order this again.  It wasn’t that great.  But I learned something really important from this experience: Maybe some of my long-held assumptions need to be challenged.  I always thought I didn’t like anything with coffee in it, but apparently that is not entirely true.  What else out there might not be entirely true?