9 a.m. Coffee Break

Coffee is no guilty pleasure for me. It is my lifeblood.

Mondays have never been nice to me no matter how I try to fake it. Yesterday was no exception. Although I enjoyed my underachievement (soon I hope I’d be prouder of the results of what I intend to accomplish), close to believing all was well, I still ended up popping pills to relieve me from a splitting headache. Sooner then I realized I guess I did not have enough dose of coffee for the day. Sometimes I wish I owned a coffee maker that brew coffee on its own and give me a refill when I am supposed to get one.

So this is me on a Tuesday, the day I lead myself to believe that is my favorite day. But just as the normal (really?) days, I am sipping through a styro cup some instant latte in the hope that the day shall be nicer than yesterday.

Cafe Hop

Nothing fancy. Nothing grand. Nothing planned.

For a coffee lover like me, it is predictable that the only thing that pleases me is a cup of coffee.

Today, I got to ride in coffee spoons and stir my way to special moments with extraordinary beings.

Where coffee is, there my heart shall be.

Three cafes in a day…each my first time…like they were candles I needed to blow to make a wish. Well I only have one: be remembered.

Today had been great.

Fixed by a Cupcake

By the end of the day, when my hair is all messy, my lipstick is reduced to a stain, and my feet are calloused by a whole day toil, at least I have something to make my eyes sparkle: a mocha walnut cupcake and hazelnut frappe for my coffee break. Another heaven on earth.

Midday Dreams

Am I the only one wishing I could sleep and wake up with an opportunity to live life again, skipping the shitty parts, and even the great ones that eventually lead to shitty parts still?

I feel like this when it is cold and it is too hot to go outside either that I’d rather put up with the cold, but the roars of laughter I should be sharing with the ones doing them annoy me that I wish I were not here the first place.

The thing is, it is almost 3 pm, maybe I just need coffee.

Dim Sum Break with Confucius

Time for another Odd Trio prompt: write a post about any topic you want, in whatever form or genre, but make sure it features a slice of cake, a pair of flip-flops, and someone old and wise.


Confucius came to have breakfast with me this morning, with a slice of cake and a pair of flip-flops.

“I read the Fault in Our Stars and I find the Augustus Waters’ metaphors very inspiring that I have come to show you a couple metaphors, too,” Confucius greeted me, beaming at the slice of cake and the pair of flip-flops.

“I know your question even before you ask me about it. For a change, why don’t you give me an answer and I will tell you if you have the right question,” he continued as I offered him too pick anything from the dim sum platter.

“So a slice of cake, and a pair of flip-flops. They are metaphors, huh?” I started talking, struggling for the answers I need to give him so I may know if I am asking the right questions.

“I need a break, I know, wise man.”

“You do?”

“Yes. And a slice of cake and a pair of flip-flops are just the things I need.”

“Is that right?”

Sometimes talking to someone very old and wise makes me impatient, but I knew what he was trying to lead me on.

“Life is too delectable to go solo on a sweet fix. A slice of cake will do, and a slice means others have their one slices too. We all deserve something sweet, then we might as well share the pleasure this life gives us.”

“I am listening,” he mumbled through the steamy sweet buns.

“Wearing a pair of flip-flops is the best feeling after walking on a plank in high heels. Sometimes going flat makes us feel the ground better and appreciate the roads we journey more.”

“I am listening,” he told me, this time, smiling with eyes closed as he took pleasure devouring a couple of spring rolls.

“I am glad you came with a slice of cake and a pair of flip-flops,” I thanked him, as I popped a fried dumpling into my mouth, smiling through bits that fall off each time I chewed.

“Did you like the metaphors?”

“Did I get them right?”

“I don’t think that is what you want to ask,” Confucius grabbed a fortune cookie and started to leave his seat. he gave me wink and then he disappeared.

“I know right,” I smiled at an empty space. I got a fortune cookie myself, more interested on how it tasted than what the piece of paper inside would say.

“I should be wise enough to know what to do with this life. And I need more than luck to do this.”








I close my eyes and think through my nose: what can I breathe in so I may feel better after living the longest day of my life?

Who am I fooling when I say that I shall stop to smell the flowers? Flowers to me are more pleasing to the eyes than taking them into my nostrils. But if my nose alone could sense comfort out of the things that surround me, I shall take a pause, a deep breath, and be comforted by three scents: the scent of a newborn baby, the scent of fresh raindrops, and the scent of early morning coffee.

The scent of a newborn baby…ah! Addictive like drug-the kind that takes you to the clouds and liberates you from the thoughts that darken your skies. Always sweet like powder, always fragrant like clean laundry. I am soothed by the reminiscence of the going through labor pains, enduring child birth and sustaining motherhood. Taking in the scent of a newborn baby is like taking in new life as well; it revives me. That to me is comforting.

The scent of fresh raindrops, and even the ones that have dried on the pavement, petrichor they call it, gives me a stir and takes me back to summers years back when rain was unexpected but once it had fallen, it had given me memories to cherish like dancing in the rain with a summer fling, getting soaked with chums, and writing poems with head resting on the window with the wet world in sight. Taking in petrichor gives me more than just memories of summer-it gives me hope for a fresh start, an anticipation for a rainbow, a desire for solitude. That to me is comforting.

The scent of early morning coffee, the one thing I always look forward to. Starting a day with a cup of latte is giving myself an opportunity to  breathe in lifeblood. The scent of coffee prepares me for the day ahead. As I breathe it in, I am reminded of how special I am as a person and how grateful I am to have sustained the life I am living. The scent of coffee reminds me how blessed I am to have woken up to a new day, and pushes me to keep breathing no matter what. That to me is comforting.


And whenever I think through my nose, I realize, it is only then that I understand what my life is all about.



From the yeasty warmth of freshly baked bread to the clean, summery haze of lavender flowers, we all have favorite smells we find particularly comforting. What’s yours?