Single Origin / Special Blend

Scattered thoughts

Sunday, 12 February • 2.40pm

Spending my Sunday afternoons in the (only open) coffee shop on campus is turning into a regular thing. It’s not that I am particularly fond of this place, but it is relatively empty on this day – and has sockets for my power hungry laptop – and I can always go for a nice cup of iced long black.

I tried to cut coffee out of my life in an attempt to make healthier choices and because a friend told me my drinking habits are very  obvious from my caffeine-stained teeth. I lasted a glorious, wait-for-it, 2 days. I woke up this morning feeling miserable and extremely reluctant to drink any more soy milk, and went on a bit of a bender. I had a cup of masala chai at lunch and I am currently nursing a nice cup of iced long black.

So the lesson to be learnt here is that maybe going cold turkey is not the solution. I’ll try drinking coffee on alternate days, and then slowly cut more down from there.

Tomorrow is also our first double round day so I am positively terrified. In other news, less than a month (29 days, 6 hours, 12 minutes, 32 seconds) till we fly!


Sunday School

Scattered thoughts

Is there anything quite as depressing as making a snap decision at 10am on a Sunday morning to head down to school so that you can get more things done?

Also my Sunday studying aesthetic is: drinking a toddler’s head volume of cold brew (venti – I live on black coffee like I live on water now), discovering Khalid’s album (American Teen, so, so good), writing 300 words of my leadership reflection essay for my leadership module, realising I still have another 1200 words to write but simply running out of bullshit to spew, downloading a few cases that need to be read for class tomorrow, looking up the lyrics to Saved, getting emotional over songs about heartbreak despite not really knowing what heartbreak is, inter alia.

2017-09-17 13.12.42.jpg

2017-09-17 13.12.49.jpg

2017-09-17 13.13.01.jpg

2017-09-17 13.17.44.jpg

2017-09-17 13.19.16.jpg

I also dissociated for the longest time, staring at the chair directly opposite me (see picture 1). There is a patch of off-white paint on the wall behind it that you don’t really realise is there until you stare unnecessarily. And after you see it, you can’t help but get drawn back to it every time you look up from your laptop.

Apaki on toast

Scattered thoughts

Sometimes you do some things you regret. Yesterday, I made a cup of hot chocolate right about dinnertime (planned on having that as dinner), but before I had a chance to drink it, I received a phone call and engaged in a phone conversation that got me feeling guilty about making the hot chocolate.

I poured the hot chocolate down the toilet and washed the cup.

Today, I was in midst of having my dinner at a Greek deli — Apaki on toast, was grossly overpriced and had way too much vinaigrette added to its salad — when I received a message from a friend about a piece of news I had not been mentally prepared to deal with. Nothing to do with said friend, but more of my own stunted emotional maturity in dealing with my own feelings.

It got me upset and I couldn’t even deal with the remainder of the Apaki nonsense, except I couldn’t dump this down the toilet (it was $15++) so I shoved the rest of the meat into my mouth while trying to repress those horrible thoughts that always haunt me.

drink more fluids

Scattered thoughts

T-7 days to our flight out and I am feeling very unsettled (surprise, surprise) for several reasons, but at the top of that list is this ridiculous sore throat that decided to plague me over past few days. I tried being a warrior over the weekend, thinking I’m infallible, I’ll let my amazing immune system fix this and prove Darwin right. 

This culminated into a severe coughing fit at the breakfast table this morning and the mother launching into a lecture on my inadequate water consumption. Since then I’ve seen the doctor, taken 3 different little pills and jugged down 3 bottles worth of water. All in all a good day and I should be on my road to recovery, if not the road to the washroom (again).