Wake up and smell the Christmas blend

So this is how it began, the coffee, the love, the addiction…

I was having a love infused cup of coffee. It was then that I decided that I needed to do something with my writing and this is it, I thought, blogging. About what I love; Coffee, Love…and other Addictions (which I may or may not share according to the family popular opinion)

I live and love in Cape Town, South Africa. 27 and qualified as an IT/education facilitator, travel agent(sigh), bookkeeper…I am fluctuating between paranoid panic and mild euphoria about the future.

I wrote the bulk of that in August, 2014. I was just a travel agent back then, wondering if I would see the world. So much has changed…

Still, I ground myself in the Christmas blend that opens up the day to me. Lethargy slowly evaporates and my thoughts begin to dart through the tasks looming in from the schedule in my mind. The heavy thoughts that keep me lagging in time rocket into the sunlight. I know that they must come down at some point in time. Later, fortunately. I have lots to accomplish today.

With 2018 just a few days away, I must engage my chosen routine more often. The alarm can’t be ignored. The drowsiness can’t be entertained. Wakefulness must be embraced. The circadian rhythm can only help me as far as I can help myself.

The festivities haven’t helped, that’s for sure. Gluttonous eating and postponed workouts have fulfilled their promise and my bodily discomfort has returned. It clouds my judgement and renders my focus to the wind.

The foundations of success will have to begin (again) with this blend of “rare, aged Sumatra”, courtesy of Starbucks™…(not sponsors, unfortunately).

Sailing through a solitary Christmas

As boxing day comes to an end, I look back at the matches fought in my mind. The struggle to lightly let go of all the suffering in the world and focus on alleviating just my own. Humdrum music drifts in from a tired old street waiting for its revamp. An occasional engine sparks my interest but on the whole, environmental boredom weighs me down. The December heat marries the constant whirr of a dogged fan.

I fumble in the darkness for the red bag with its sharp scent of Sumatra. I am looking for triggers and in seconds, my brain is awash with years of coffee stained Polaroids.

As the memories of the day sail across my mind on a sea of coffee, I can proudly say that I tried, failed and succeeded at being as amazing as humanly possible.


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