Tag: coffee

My Morning News

Time is going by so slow.  I just looked at the clock and it said 12:12.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, stumbled into the dining room, opened and unlocked the computer (ruby darling is her name.  She has a sticker on back that says ‘I donut care.” ). Nice morning ritual, I think to myself, coffee and reading the news.  Sounds legit.

I fire up good old google news, and scan the headlines.  I baffle once again over the influx of negativity that is the staple of catching up on local and global events.  Definitely a lot of gossip written in very persuasive tone of voice that doesn’t leave a lot of room for reader opinion.

Today’s top story, in my mind, was a particular piece of coverage about the fucking eclipse – a centennial celestial event that seriously everyone has to comment on.  No, I do not care if you got eclipse glasses.  It’s just something to buy and throw away.  This story, however, was about a Donald Trump tweet – another current top story since he took office.  Fucking twitter?  God how little I should care about a silly social media fun-thread bulletin board.  But apparently, this is shaping the world’s view of top politics in this country.

This tweet, though, was beyond comprehension of moral decency, maturity, and unmistakable evidence of any lack of intelligence.  It was a 4 part image of Donald Trump’s colorful face eclipsing a black and white pensive portrait of Barack Obama.  Below in quotes “best eclipse ever.”  This has to be a prank.  This has to be a prank.  Dear heaven, this has to be a prank.

If not, my reaction would be akin to Tina Fey on SNL weekend update about the riots at her alma mater.  If you haven’t seen the skit, do it now….  It’s of one attempting to keep a sense of sanity by stress eating cake.  A farce reaction because keeping a faith in the leadership ability of this country and maintaining the happiness of a fuck ton of people is a completely bananas concept.

Alright, enough news, enough opinions on the world at large.  It’s time to close up the internet shop, and locate the fat cat still sleeping in bed.  Curled up in a furry grey ball of soft adorableness, I give her some love.

Coffee half gone, I stumble to my phone to check awaiting text messages.

Its 12:13.

I have no idea how that is actually possible, to live a whole morning in 1 minute.  Time’s wanderings have changed pace, and I have to slow-up to adapt.

– Marigold

 

Ps- I got a good joke- Hey Donald, here I thought I was the worst speller in the history of writing anything!  Bam, self-esteem is starting to rise.

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Chasing Circles

Fall’s destruction is a means of recreating.  Fall is so beautiful, like the curiosity in a baby, but it is so unnerving like the breaking of a piece of art.  Fall has to be divinely beautiful to ease the transition from sunny paradise to the brutal hug of winter.  In this transitional time, we are broken apart and smashed to ruins like an east coast earthquake.  The thought of building it all back up again is daunting, seemingly impossible.  Is it even worth that burst of exploding energy to recreate again?  It is tiring, all this change, all the beauty around.

Coffee is not seemingly enough to want to conquer these diamond dreams lately.  I am being dragged down with Fall’s heavy and demanding hand.  I sleep, I stretch, I seek the sun, I await the wheels of change to start to flow again.  To find that spark to start the construction, the jump to get my heart racing, to finally get sick of the simple.  I want to overcomplicate my plate once again, but even the espresso seems to have gotten weaker.

The circles of creativity and growth, in this season of change you have to be content with the sluggish shuffle of self fulfillment, but still dream with a translucent shimmer over your monotone eyes.  Out of this rubble a better version is going to be unsurfaced, more rubies will be formed, more colors will be created, more complicated structures will dominate like a Dr. Seuss city.

Alarm Clock

Get up, go to work, iron out the day.  It is hard to start the rolling motion, but once you find a small hill of inspiration, it’s clear sailing, smooth somersaults.  Once you get over the lull of the nighttime dream, once you break the sandman’s spell, the daylight is not so harsh.

This is why I don’t understand those people out there who don’t drink coffee.  What’s the buzz to your alarm clock?  Where is the wind in your espresso flight?  What is the deep roasted root to your bitterness?

Shake shake shake off the chains of the heavy dreams, and lighten your daylight with a fresh cup.