How Boring Facts Can Lead One To Self Discovery

For me, it starts with coffee but ends elsewhere.

What if you ended up learning something interesting about yourself in examining a boring fact about yourself?

Self-discovery is a funny thing.

I recently came across something a teacher wrote that put me aboard that train of thought.

“My new favorite thing is asking my class to share a boring fact about themselves (way too much pressure to share an interesting fact). Today I shared I don’t like mayo on sandwiches. One student puts both socks on before putting on shoes. Another eats a pound of turkey each day.”

Now, I don’t know why my mind settled on this particular tedious detail about me, but this is what it was:

For about a year now, my preferred coffee to brew at home is the German mild roast available at Aldi supermarkets.

“Next stop Yawn City!”

No, wait. Hear me out.

I know there’s better coffee out there. I interviewed a few professional coffee roasters a couple of weeks ago for a local magazine. I know, for instance, that a light-roast Sumatran is one of the best around these days. I also learned, while doing these interviews, that dark roasts have less caffeine than lighter roasts. I don’t know why, but I’ve always assumed the opposite. Freelance writing is a great job for learning things.

Anyway, I’ve been drinking coffee for almost 40 years. I’ve had great coffee (a small cafe in eastern Mexico), and I’ve had terrible coffee (petrol station near Cornwall, UK).

I’ve had coffee that was the hot beverage-equivalent of a violent mugging. That was at the New York System Diner on Smith St., Providence, RI, USA. Yes, I’m calling them out specifically. It was 20 years ago, and I’m still not over it.

I’m saying that I know what I like and know what I don’t like. And I’m noticing that in considering the dull factoid that my current coffee blend comes in a vacuum-sealed brick from a discount supermarket, I’m trying to decide why.

It’s not a stand-out blend. It’s 100% arabica — the most generic of coffees available in America. It’s not that it’s imported from Germany. There’s nothing particularly Germanic about it that I can discern.

But you know what?

It’s dependable.

It’s reliable.

I know that precisely three slightly rounded scoops placed in my coffee maker result in cups of coffee that are perfect for me in the morning and can stand to be reheated a little later in the day. I know that a single brick will last me nearly a week.

I know it always sits on the right-hand side of the top shelf of the endcap of the first aisle in Aldi, directly across from the milk and eggs.

Without fail.

I think given all of the uncertainty in the world today, that kind of reliability is important.

I think in the face of an ongoing pandemic, a madman in the White House, and the police openly brutalizing my fellow citizens, knowing that I can depend on a $5 brick of coffee to help me face the day means that perhaps the world isn’t so unmanageable.

That I will weather this storm.

Now… I’m no fool

I know nothing is permanent.

That’s why I’ve been stocking up. Not hoarding, mind you. Just stocking up. When I make my weekly trip to Aldi, I only really need one brick, but I’ll buy two and save the rest for others.

And I know that one day this simple, unassuming German mild roast will disappear from the shelves. That the Aldi employees will shrug their shoulders and sadly inform me that it’s been discontinued and it’s a shame because they liked it as well.

If this happens tomorrow, I still have enough to get me through the rest of the year.

That’s all I really want. To make it all the way through 2020 with my sanity and spirit intact.

So that’s my revelation spawned from a simple, boring fact.

My preference for an inexpensive, simple coffee is somewhat representative of my desire to get through the rest of the tumultuous year intact. I suppose if I were to take this revelation a step further, I could take extra comfort in knowing that’s all it’s taking. I mean… I’m not clinging to drugs, alcohol, or binge television.

Nor am I suggesting that if my precious cache of coffee were to disappear that I would not make it to the end of the year. I would. But I’d be a bit resentful.

Let me have my small comforts. I’ll not say a word when you put ketchup on your eggs or whatever atrocity you perform to stay sane these days.

The question now is…

What’s your boring tidbit? And what does that reveal to you about yourself?

When I started this essay, I didn’t know it would end with realizing my coffee was a coping mechanism to deal with the year we’re having. But there it is. Perhaps some minor dull facts about yourself will yield some surprising revelation.

It’s an exercise I recommend.

Whether you’re a creative person, an analytical one, or what-have-you… self-discovery — even in teaspoon portions — makes for a healthier, happier, and more knowledgeable existence.

I’d call that a win.

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