Chamomile Tea with Honey

Chamomile tea with honey. I sit on my 1980's couch with hot tea on the coffee table. A fruit fly is buzzing around my ear, but why? I have no fruit sitting on my kitchen counter; a can of pineapple cut into chunks resides in the refrigerator, unopened.

The past nights have been cool. Does the warmth draw them in?

I've been looking for a time-sink. Maybe I'll start writing on this more often than once every five years. Something to jot down thoughts, inspirational ideas, or methods of saving the world.

Anyways, enough with the regular blog crap. Does anyone even write on blogs anymore? I thought vlogs on YouTube were the new thing. Oh well. The past week has been an interesting one. A week ago, I woke up vomiting uncontrollably, wondering whether or not I should visit the hospital since I was extremely dehydrated and couldn't walk straight, let alone think straight. Stubbornness prevailed and I lived to see another day. The weekend one was one in which I, surprisingly, remained sober. A short car trip brought me to Turtle Lake, Wisconsin, where I spent the weekend with friends, both old and new ones I had just met.

Being able to observe drunk human nature while sober is an interesting one. Men and woman alike are less hesitant to talk to each other. Unlike the real world, where men rarely speak to women, and you have better chances at getting struck by lightning than a woman speaking to a man first. It was fun people-watching, in all honesty. Human nature does a complete 180 turn when under the influence. Someone said they admired my beard, and my friends gave me shit for having a beard in the middle of Summer. They didn't get admired, though.

The trip had its drawbacks. Josh got me sick with a sharp cold, much like a severe storm compared to a hurricane. It was short, but extremely strong and vicious. Not a "hurricane" cold that lasted several days and slowly tore away at my sanity.

I cough. Take a sip of my tea which is still too hot to drink. Big mistake.

My phone is much quieter these days. Unlimited texting is not worth the cost anymore.

Today though, I went to a coffee shop and enjoyed a Honduran coffee in memory of someone important. It tasted sweet with hints of rum and berries. I did sit alone, listening to others chatter with their friends, colleagues, loved ones, significant others. Reading articles on how to become a better version of "me". Me 2.0, I guess you could say. It was relaxing in a way, taking in the sonder.

My father asked me to come help him move things out of my parents house for a garage sale. A bit of a nostalgic hit, seeing all my childhood items go to others for pennies. I hope they find a good home and make someone else happy the way they did for me.

Then work came, where I work the IT version of a graveyard shift: 4pm-12 midnight. It has its ups and downs. Outside of the usual work responsibilities, the time allows me certain privileges. I get to chat with people that mean the world to me, yet I do not get to see them. I get to relate with them, yet I do not get to be with them. I get to understand them, yet I cannot understand them.

But I try. It's all I can do. I can try to relate, listen, understand, help, and be there, without being there. It's a difficult task, but that's the curveball that life throws. It's the bottom of the 9th and there are 2 outs in the inning. One wrong swing and it's all over. One right swing, and I've hit it out of the park.

Don't strike out.

Music: Japanese Wallpaper - Breathe In (ft. Wafia)