"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

The Blueberry Green Tea

Some of us, including me, are creatures of habit, and we take pleasure in our routines. Signs you are a creature of habit:

1. You have a regular "go-to" drink rather than picking the daily special. 
2. Choosing aforementioned daily special requires a pep talk and convincing one's self to be adventurous. 
3. You enjoy the daily special, after convincing yourself to "try something new," and consider getting it next time. 
4. BUT when next time rolls around, you go back to your regular drink. 
5. And it always seems to taste better. 

One of my favourite ways to drink tea is your average black tea with milk. Be it Orange Pekoe or some fancy "Awake" tea from Starbucks, it tastes almost-close-to-pretty-much the same. Occasionally I venture out and drink green tea to feel healthy, honey lemon tea when I'm feeling under the weather, or try those interesting passion-fruit-mango-with-peppermint-spiced-chai tea lattes when I'm feeling - you guessed it! Adventurous. 

So what draws us back to our favourite things? Comfort. Predictability. Comfort in predictability. 

In comparison, what draws us to try new things? Maybe we try to convince ourselves by breaking habits that aren't necessarily good or bad, we are more interesting people, since it is less predictable. Perhaps we even think of ourselves as less worthy, since our love for habits and knowing what to expect makes us "boring." Or maybe, we don't even have a reason, and are just drawn to embracing change less often than others, but with gritted teeth a firm grip on what we can be sure of. 

Where am I going with this? 

Today, I thought I would be take a small step out of my comfort zone. Instead of regular tea, I had blueberry green tea. It's not quite the game changer a pomegranate-ginseng-banana-chocolate-white tea would be. But still, it was a change. And changing up my tea today made me think of our interactions with that special someone you just can't seem to get rid of (and secretly don't want to). 

We go back to the same person over and over sometimes. Why? In my recently conducted study on.. myself.. my conclusion is that we crave the comfort and predictability of this person's reactions and conversations with and to us, the same way we look forward to our favourite drinks. We know they* will love us, and continue to love us, as long as we continue to come back. It seems like a legitimate reason, no? Until the tea/drink/person starts to give us stomachaches. And I mean, keep-you-up-all-night stomach aches. Or heartaches. 

See, this is the point where we're supposed to change our regular drink and go find something new. So for a few weeks, months, we do that. And peppermint tea, blueberry green tea, pumpkin spice latte tea is starting to taste great. But then you get a whiff of the black tea with milk and BOOM, it just sets off the craving. Taking a break from the person causing us heartache is a good idea in the beginning, but after seeing or hearing from them from time away, you are flooded with memories and comfort. And I get you, I do. It's the most comforting thing in the world to go back to them and know exactly what they will say, what they will do and how you will feel after. And often, we forget about the heart-stomachaches. I cannot claim to be a relationship expert, looking at my one failed relationship. I can, however, claim to be a master at boiling water for tea. The problem lies in picking the tea. 

What do you do now? The water is boiling hot and ready to go. 

Me? I always go back to the same tea (person), the same pattern. I crave the predictability, and I justify breaking out my habits by the occasional adventurous decisions to try different teas. I also recognize that one day, I have to break this pattern, or I will consistently get stomach-heartaches. Today, it was late and I was tired, and I had all the excuses in the world ready to go. I reached for the black tea.

But I chose blueberry green tea. 

And you know what? 

It was exactly what I needed. 

Felicia

xo

*Felicia's note: Although "he or she" is grammatically correct, Felicia has used "they," since she thinks it sounds better in her head. 

The Burnt-Tongue Syndrome

How many times do we burn our tongue from being too eager to take that first sip of tea?

Today, I'm thinking it's been one time too many. I mean, it's not like we don't know the water was boiling 3 minutes ago, and from elementary school science we all remember boiling water is 100 degrees Celsius. So why do we still think we can avoid the burn?

In love, there is always the special one that you go back to. He's "the one," you're convinced. But when you remember all the times you got burned by the scalding hot temperatures of your passion and love for each other, you'll remember why you told yourself again and again: stop going back to him when it ends with your pain.

This is like burning your tongue., or as I'd like to call it, the Burnt-Tongue Syndrome.

You love the tea, but you always jump right into it and get lost in the overwhelming smell of - mmmmm tea leaves - and take the first sip too early, then, YOU GET BURNED. You curse! Promise yourself you'll never do it again and you'll be patient, but what happened tomorrow? Same thing.

And what's the worst part? The burn has its after effects.
Your tongue feels numb, you can't taste anything. Doesn't that sound like your mind's response to getting hurt by that special guy? You lay in bed - okay, I may be writing this while in bed - and you don't want to talk to anyone or feel anything - okay, I may not be Social Sally but it's a Sunday morning right now! - so basically, you're feeling the after effects of the disastrous hangout with the special guy you always go back to.And what was my excuse this time?

It's the same old justification: I thought this time was different. Well you know what, ladies? It's not. It never is. Because guys are like boiling water for your tea. They boil at the same temperature every time. It won't change. You will still have to wait until the tea cools before you take a sip, no matter how many times you've had it or how much you love this particular tea (or guy). And you will always, always, always get burned if you jump right back into it. And suffer the after effects. And hold an ice cube to your tongue hoping it won't get stuck there.

So what's my conclusion? Jumping into the boiling hot water of love and never learning your lesson will give you the same result every time. Because boiling water will never change it's temperature, then boys will be boys, so it's up to you to decide how many times you get burned before you blow on the tea to cool it down with patience… Or throw it out the window and crack open the iced tea.

Felicia 

xx

Love like a hot cup of tea.

As I was drinking my hot cup of blueberry green tea while getting through some reading for school, I thought about how nice it was to have a hot cup of tea. See, usually, I make my tea then forget about it and by the time I remember to drink it, the tea's gone cold. I enjoyed it, then as I got into my book, forgot about it. 
Now you all know what's coming next. My tea got cold. It had this metallic, bitter taste, not the sweet, blueberry green tea taste I had enjoyed an hour ago. It was the kind of taste that made me purse my lips like I had just downed tequila and put the lemon in the shot glass. Yeah, that kind of taste. And since I've been a little nostalgic *cough*lookingupoldpicturesofmeandmyex*cough* lately, cold tea made me think of relationships.
See, when the hot water is first poured into the mug and hits the tea bag and a lovely, clear brown or greenish water appears, it's like the first few weeks of love. It's changing and it's refreshing. Like that first sip of hot tea, you sigh, you smile, and your chest is filled with warmth. 
You're happy. 
You take a few sips and enjoy the hot tea - it's the honeymoon stage of your new relationship. Ouch! Too hot, you burned your tongue. But that's okay, you can still taste the tea, so you take a break, then continue sipping away, more carefully. This is clearly the part when something in the relationship goes wrong - a first fight, a break of trust.. After a while you've got two choices: continue sipping the tea as it slowly gets colder, or down it while its hot like you're a parched camel in the desert. 
Now what? Now you have cold tea or a burned throat. In my case, I have cold tea. And another decision looms: throw it out, or gulp down the bitter, cold tea. As for the relationship? Endure the cold, dying love that was once a warm relationship or bite the bullet and end things. 
Let me tell you one thing. If you try to endure the bitter tea, you won't enjoy it but you'll think, "Hey this is better than wasting it!" But then you won't like the tea and you will become resentful. Same as the relationship you're in. End it when the love ends, and you'll save both of you from resentful, spiteful messy aftermath of attempting to move on while really still holding onto that person. 
So after that long, confusing metaphor, you're like, what the heck does love have to do with tea? Love like a cup of hot tea, my friends. Enjoy it while its hot and know there's a time to throw it out when it starts to get cold. Then turn on the kettle, boil more water, and pour yourself another hot cup of tea. 
Or press a button on one of those snazzy Keurig machines. That works too.

Felicia
xx