A change of name, on a whim. Actually, "just the way it is" was always a working name, until I could come up with something a bit more..."me".
Obviously the creativity department is lacking.
But I'm happy with it. At least now it's a bit more personal, recognisable, and hopefully memorable.
On my table right now is a big, warm cup of tea. At one stage, I was a big coffee drinker, when $2 cappucinos still existed and were within easy access. Now I can't have a cup of standard coffee without suffering strange effects that are not dissimilar to, say, Parkinsons. The full mental awareness but physical inability to stop limbs from shaking. And that weird, queasy feeling of heart palpitations and the sensation of near-collapse.
Naturally, tea becomes the answer.
Tea bags were never a favourite. It was always too weak, too messy (even the drawstrings), and lacked the oompf of the fragrance that should define a tea. When I moved into college, one of my first purchases was a teapot and cup set for one, an adorable bone china set. I cried when the saucer broke in the sink towards the end of my first year, consoling myself with a lovely Japanese tea tray and more bits and pieces of china on the subsequent trip to HK.
Now that exams are coming up, tea is featuring more and more prominently. It must be a loose-leaf. Preferably single origin, but I'm partial to good blends. I still remember the subtle differences between English Breakfast and Afternoon Ceylon blends from Harrods, a gift from an aunt on a trip from London. Earl Grey must be taken with lemon, never milk. The tea has since long gone, but the tins remain, and perfect for keeping the Dilmah loose leaf that come in vacuum packs.
One benefit of loose leaf tea is that the strength of each pot can be adjusted according to one's mood. An extra spoonful for strong. Half a spoon less for weak. The leaves are larger than that in tea bags, and in their unrestrained state are able to fully show off their perfume and flavour.
Perfect with a buttery shortbread cookie.
Exam season starts soon. Books are piling, and 24 hours no longer enough per day. Even the windowsill is now being used for book (and notes) storage, though I will clean up before the last minute cramming (and summarising and panicking) sets in. This window has been next to my desk for the past year and a half. Even though it faces a full west, and so gets unbelievably hot in summer, I am still grateful for a window that actually lets in light, a bit of a rarity in this college building I spend so much of my time imprisoned in.
A random time to say new beginnings, considering the end has not even come. But new beginnings is more an emotion, a feeling, a decision, rather than a mere milestone, is it not?