Earl Me Grey

Do you ever feel as though you're the only one on your wavelength? Think, radio frequency.
Maybe you say something and no one catches on, so you just keep it to yourself, in your head, the next time you think you want to say something out loud.

Do you ever feel as though you're drinking Earl Grey from a tea bag, while everyone else is caught up with the latest loose leaf tea blend named after a cosy Christmas feeling?

Sometimes, I don't even feel as though I'm from this time. I was born in the wrong century. Yet here I am, using a computer and completely dependant on my phone. So, what's the deal, world?

No matter how hard I try to catch on to current things going on around me, it always feels like I'm a little out of step. At this point, it's very hard to think something is NOT wrong with you. I mean, sure in Grade 4 you coloured a shield representing all the things you liked to do with stick figures (who are we kidding, I drew full portraits) of the people with whom you are closest, and the big letters on the bulletin board said, "I AM UNIQUE." But aside from that, doesn't it seem like there is some common binding force that bonds people, and most times, you're just not feeling the bonding force field?

Sometimes, the definition of being "unique" feels more like an imprisonment to a lonely world, rather than a celebration of differences. Sometimes, it can be hard to remember the elementary school lessons on why we should see the things that make us different as good things, not bad things. Even in my twenties, I forget these lessons some days.

But, I like Earl Grey. It's not that I don't like change, it's that I don't feel I need to keep up with the times, to feel good about myself. I operate on a different frequency, and that's okay. It doesn't make me less, or weird, or even how we often use the word, "different." It just makes me, me.

Maybe I was born in the wrong century, or maybe I'm just me.

Maybe I'm on another wavelength, or maybe I'm just me.

Maybe no one understood what I said, but that's just me.

Maybe I didn't feel the binding forcefield of being unique, or maybe... I'm just me.

Maybe I like Earl Grey, and maybe, that's just me.

Earl me grey.


Felicia 
xo

"Can I get a coffee-half-hot-chocolate please?"

All of these blog posts have been about tea, and since today is a Monday, it's a coffee day, which constitutes a coffee metaphor. Whether you're living the student life, the working life, or the <insert creative stereotype/> life, Mondays are Mondays and nobody likes Mondays (WARNING: MAJOR ASSUMPTIONS BEING MADE).

Back story: During my very short time as a Tim Horton's employee, I noticed some customers spruced up their coffee orders, asking for a "<insert coffee cup size/> coffee-half-hot-chocolate." Almost all of the time, they omitted adding milk and sugar to their drink. Once I tried this combination, I found my new favourite drink. The machines even have a button for half or a quarter of hot chocolate, french vanilla, or English toffee. It's a thing, people.

Front story (Is that a thing?): Today, I was moping about an ex-boyfriend who seems to be getting over me a lot faster than I'm getting over him. Who's with me in this situation? 

[Cue: melodramatic stereotypical situation. Rainy, cold, windy, lonely day. Piles of school work.]

Here I was, Facebook and Instagram-creeping pictures that showed up on my newsfeed via mutual friends, checking out said ex's pretty new friends, chomping on my bag of "double hit" caramel and butter popcorn. With a big English project to write, I figured coffee was an appropriate post-lunch drink. *crunchcrunch* Instead of adding fancy Classic Syrup from Starbucks, hot chocolate was calling my name.

[Cue: coffee + hot chocolate = a less-mopey attitude]

What's the big deal?

Coffee is synonymous with early mornings, late nights, and breakfast most days. Coffee is waking up and starting a new day. Coffee is your weapon against Mondays.

Hot chocolate is a comfort drink (for me at least, and if you don't like hot chocolate, why are you still reading this?!). Hot chocolate is warm goodness on cold spring days back when you played your heart out on the soccer field, in the pouring rain. Hot chocolate, if you make it from the powder mix and not fondue-style (Italy, anyone? I've tried it there!), leaves a gooey, not-so-melted powder mix at the bottom of your mug once you're done drinking.

Today, with the moping Monday-hating attitude I was in, looked at this leftover chocolate stuff and decided there were 3 options:

1. Soak the mug then wash it. (Add baking soda if there are stains from leaving it unwashed)
2. Get a spoon and eat it. 
3. Add milk and make impromptu chocolate milk. 

The first option was just ignoring this goodness and wasting it. The second was a good idea, but involves scraping against the mug and that's weird unless you're eating cake (No offence, hot-chocolate scrapers), and also feels a little desperate. The third option was making the most out of it and turning the drink into something new. 

[Cue: High School Musical 3's "Something New" song]

Metaphor: Mix the things we rely on to keep us going with the comfort things and turn it around! As much we like to dwell on the old, and creep our exes and mope and hold pity parties for ourselves, sometimes the ways we comfort ourselves on crappy days (hot chocolate in coffee on Mondays), present us with new opportunities. Instead of closing our eyes to these options, turn it into a new drink, a new opportunity. 

Like chocolate milk in the middle of the day. 

And enjoy the caramel and butter popcorn. *chompchomp* I highly recommend it.

And my apologies, lactose-intolerant folks, is there a soy milk substitute? Almond milk?

... HAPPY MONDAY PEOPLE (sad attempt at cheerfulness?)

Felicia 
xx