Coffee day

“OH! You mean everyday, right?” you might ask. Well yes, except not for me anymore. Everyday is Tea Day, but every other day is “Coffee Day.”

In a society largely unburdened by means for survival, I figure plenty of the things important to us, or creating structure, in our schedule are just plain made up. So here’s how I constructed Coffee Day:

  • Every other day is Coffee Day.

That means anything from decaf coffee to mugs of espresso and milk! Multiple drinks are allowed, but this continued practice has me typically taking just one sort of latte drink per day.

Now, sometimes I end up skipping coffee day without realizing it, or missing it! But if it’s not coffee day, even brewed coffee has no place in my day.

  • Everyday is Tea Day.

I can have tea on any end of the caffeine spectrum! But I am responsible for making sure I eat enough to buffer that caf’s recoil. This blueberry oolong I got from Lake Tahoe is no joke. Earl grey is also the monarch of stomach-stoking teas. You need to eat.

If I’m with a friend for a coffee date on Tea Day, I’ll usually get a chai. My family loves tea, so we have a nice little library at home—no need to pay for boiled water when out.

  • If I break Coffee Day, no worries—the next day is Tea Day.

I hold to this rule strictly, but I actually haven’t had any trouble with it. This is my way of practicing discipline unattached to shame. (See: “no worries.”)

Why would I do this when I love that brew? Read on, caffeinated compadre:

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Take the 717 to the 304

I’ve long glared at the thought of deleting pictures on Instagram, as though it were manipulating the past. I haven’t found the opposite to be absolute truth, but neither is my former philosophy. I had a whopping 717 posts and now it’s like what 304?

The beauty of revisiting past hurts and past victories is the confirmation that the present is on purpose. That God has an incredibly GOOD purpose, His glory and our best (BEST) good.

I’m excited to act upon loving counseling from a elder mentor who told me it’s important we “let our heart get to the end of it.”

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Took the wheel

Here’s what my bi-weekly commute sort of looks and sounds like:

Just kidding, it is L.A. and I do have Mat Kearney’s Just Kids on repeat, and that’s majority of the similarity. SoCal is commuter country and it’s so easy to forget how dangerous a drive can be. Not particularly harrowing, just nothing’s guaranteed you know? Felt a little sick today and I haven’t felt so all year—and thankfully so. Though I know the Father could certainly get me through it, or could certainly teach me to surrender stillness, this school year was airtight without allowance for a slowdown like that. Now is transitional (as it always is, no?) and maybe everything is going to be a surprise again. Read More »

Mel Solo #2 | A good measure.

Today, I was—as my best friend and I like to hail—a woman on the go! I hopped from place to place in LA, and felt little to no pressure when it came to questionable parking situations and making requests that I needed in fulfilling some work duties. I parked in a structure that said the first 90 minutes of parking were free and shuffled off with the packages that were in my care.

As I finished my first errand, I asked the cashier helping me if their store validated parking. She apologized saying they didn’t but perhaps the Homegoods store down the street did. I had no need for home goods (excuse me?) but I did want to be creative, so I headed into the fancy land of the Americana to look for a friend where she works. She wasn’t there, so after considering a couple of other options, I settled that there was indeed a need for coffee.

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Mel Solo #1 | Return of the Collegiate Junior

On Friday morning at 7 a.m., I arrived at the computer lab I’ve lived in this semester.

Mission objective: to complete a final web design project, burn a CD of all projects, slap an Illustrator-designed sticker on that CD and tackle the class’ final. Almost thought it would be impossible as a sonic alarm rang behind our classroom and my professor conducted class as usual, but the dog-go-crazy siren stopped as soon as it was time to work, and I’m pleased to say I’m happily satisfied enough with the webpage I built from scratch in two hours.

On Friday morning at 10:30 a.m., I sat in the same spot with the same friend in the same breakfast place, where we ate the same things, had the same waitress, and I treated said brother for being a loyal friend to the serious flake I’ve been this week.

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