COFFEE DIARIES: Of Saving Wolves

If I was having coffee with you I’d tell you that I love to read, and you’d say that that’s not exactly a secret.

I would tell you that I actually love a good fairytale, whether the ending is happy or warped I like the journey the story takes me on. So today, lets follow the rabbit down the hole. You can be my Alice and I’ll be the hatter.

If I was having coffee with you we would set our friendship on fire by discussing the age old phenomena of “Head VS Heart.” 

In the case of  Head VS Heart, some hearts may say that love means falling and we’re afraid of heights.

To refute this the Head may counter  by quoting Zelda Fitzgerald, “no one, not even poets has ever successfully measured how much the heart can hold.”

 

If I was having coffee with you, you would agree, however, that when you feel strongly for people, being around them will lead to you transitioning from one version of yourself to another.

People wonder why anyone would stay in in a toxic relationship be it platonic or otherwise. They wonder why people full of heartache and  poetry, go around saving wolves instead of running from them.

I would tell you that we do that because we always want to believe that they are just sheep in wolves clothing. That we believe they are trying to hide so they can survive. Sometimes this is true and other times, well, wolves are just that; wolves.

When we skip through life’s forest we oft find ourselves coming across wolves. The general misconception is that they are all Big Bad Wolves (BBW).

If I was having coffee with you we would recount to each other the fairy stories that had BBWs like Little Red who rode through the hood to get to her grannie’s house. Instead of finding her gran in bed she found a hungry wolf.

To be honest if I was Little Red, I probably wouldn’t wear red. I’d wear Black because well, its way better than red and more practical if I’m going to walk into a dark forest at dusk. I would listen to my heartbeat music thundering as I made my way deeper into the thicket on a winding path.

At the sight of the BBW I might quiver in my canvas at first. Though I feel I would go on to ask him a thousand questions, I mean if you’re going to eat me at least grant my dying wish no? One last interview.

I’d try find out why people vilify him so. I would characterize him as a wall flower, the casual observer.

He’d probably tell me that he and the three little pigs used to be thick as thieves before they received their inheritance and built their houses. He’d say that Piggy 1 and Piggy 2 were cunning, but lazy. Seeing that Piggy 3 had a bigger and ever so posh house they hatched a plan to oust Piggy 3 out of his house by blaming the wolf for their failures.

The wolf, known to have a temper and obviously related to his  Big Bad Wolf cousins who have Dexter or Hannibal-esque tendencies, would be the perfect victim. The Piggywigs knew they could claim that Wolfy has a Dr Jekyll/Mr Hyde syndrome, ready to snap at anytime. After all, Wolves in the past had shown their volatility in the most gruesome of ways.

 

The Piggies  have never quite learnt how to take responsibility for their actions and run to the one sensible person they know that hasn’t the nerve to chuck them out; Piggy 3. The BBW would go ahead to say that it’s sad that no one has ever asked what his side of the story is.

In reality, as you sip your coffee I would explain that its a lot like that. We base our opinions on heresy and don’t go find out from the source ourselves. When we hear of a BBW we stay clear and don’t take the time to find out the real story. Which is both a good a bad thing.

As an empath, believing that BBWs are really just sheep that need a listening ear can blind us to the reality that they are cunning villains who don’t deserve the time of day. Getting your head around that and getting to accept that your BBW is just a ghost that wants to be left alone will save you from the nightly terrors of his booing, never ending draft though the windows be closed and the creaking floor boards.

If I was having coffee with you, I would say that it’s ok to always look out for people, to seek the good, to be the GOOD. Just take care. Beware that when you’re playing with wolves it is NEVER a fairytale. There will be no woodcutters to rescue you on the daily, no singing tea sets to encourage you to tame the beast, just lots of huffing and puffing and blowing your top, because at the end of the day you can’t bank on the sheep to take off the wolf’s clothing nor force him either.

I would remind you that you won’t come out unscathed if you choose to save a wolf. You WILL be bruised, you’ll bleed. You might even shed all your skin down to the bone to draw them out and show that beauty is more than the outward appearance.

They  might leave your heart broken in a crumpled heap stained with your dignity on the floor, and if you’re ready to take that risk, you’ll probably always ask for more.

 

*Pictures courtesy of the world wide web.

 

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COFFEE DIARIES: Of Chances and Winning

 

If I was having coffee with you, we’d have Dilmah’s Earl Grey tea because it tastes like a heart massage (if there ever was such a thing). Its soothing and calming and super delicious.

I’d tell you about how, how after my Encyclopedia of Star Wars characters, (and several pairs of knee-high socks, 5 to be exact) it is the best present that I’ve ever gotten.

If I was having coffee with you, I’d take a sip of my tea and say this is just something I wrote, in one of those random bursts of energy where you wish you could turn to a certain person and take a load off your chest.

I would make reference to your musings:

“Ever feel like you’re watching yourself from third person view? 
Like you’re seeing someone live your life. Doing routine things, growing up, working…
But that person is you. Thats YOUR life. And it alarms you just how fast things are moving. 
You feel young as though nothings changed but things HAVE changed.
You know the next thing will be working your ass off till you retire. Then death.
But there must be more to this than THAT… Isn’t it?”

I would tell you that now and then you miss it in life. It happens to the best of us. we cease to live and start to exist. Time passes us by and we become simply living breathing mounds of flesh as functional as the walking dead. Our brains (and hearts too if not more so) just shut down.

If I were having coffee with you I’d say, “Welcome to the masquerade.” We invent our own Neverland with our multi dexterous minds because lets face it, Its fun to make believe sometimes, especially when we just can’t deal. We check out of reality and join the masked ball, leaving our bodies behind, glassy eyed, to perform the necessary and most basic functions.

I would tell you that there is more to life. That you were created to express God on earth. I would tell you that even in your darkest moment your Heaven ascribed purpose on this earth doesn’t diminish. I would tell you that there’s a function to your design, that’s why there’s only one you.

Have you ever wondered why you do what you do? Or what the right way to praise God really is? With the works of your hands? Ever have those moments when you’re doing something and when you do it right you get immense satisfaction (keep your mind out of the gutter lol)?

What thing, when you do it, makes you realize that this is what God created to do? Whatever it is keep doing it. You’ll know what it is because it will bring you peace when you do it, your heart won’t be anxious. It will do butterfly-esque flutters and fill you with a joy from the pit of your gut.

Of fluttering around I’d say embrace it. When you feel like you’re just coasting adjust your sails and if they’re stuck don’t force them. Sometimes you just need to soar on them as far as you can until the winds are favorable then steer to your desired course.

If I was having coffee with you, we’d eat ice cream, because we didn’t do that over the weekend. Also because I don’t believe we should restrict ourselves, there’s a whole world of undiscovered possibilities out there.

Sometimes you’ll find that what you’re seeking is seeking you. So you don’t have to fret about feeling lost or stuck in a rut. Life usually has a way of working itself out……..eventually.

*sigh*

If I was having coffee with you I’d say routine is lethal, but your heart knows the truth and it will lead you there. You’d probably laugh at these cliche lines but deep down you’d agree with me.

-Nala –

p.s there are no beautiful surfaces without considerable depth.

 

 

 

 

COFFEE DIARIES: Of Psychopaths, Sociopaths and Stalking

If I was having coffee with you, somewhere that isn’t your house or mine, I’d probably order cheesecake (if they had it) to go with it.

I’d suggest that we meet at either Mint Cafe or Mugg n Bean. Or if we want to do some people watching then La Mimosa, but mostly the venue would be determined by availability of cheesecake.

If I was having coffee with you, I’d tell you about how I don’t get enough credit for not acting on my near psychopathic thoughts.

They say, “a Psychopath is a person suffering from chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behavior.”

I wouldn’t say I have a choice mental disorder so lets scrap that bit, but violent social behavior could certainly be exhibited.

“a Psychopath is a person suffering from chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behavior.”

Much better.

The number of times a day I have to “whooooosssaaaa” and count to ten sometimes is alarming. Lets not simply chock this up to my short temper, I promise you my fuse has lengthened greatly. Like that time when I totally didn’t kill that person for doing that thing. (See? I have restraint. So not a complete Psychopath then – don’t you agree?)

If we were having coffee, having settled down, I’d begin to ask you about your day and tell you about how someone’s life was saved because I only maimed them in my mind.

I would go on to tell you about my deep researching abilities. “They” would call it stalking but I disagree.

First of all, no one knows who “They” are, nor does anyone know why they always have something to say. They might just be the stalkers themselves. Oh well!

I just think it’s good to know things. In the age of social networking I can tell you now that it’s beneficial.

Now I know going through your social media posts and (if you’re slightly famous) a google search where I find your portfolio and contact details might seem a little extreme, but if I’m to write an article about you I have to do my research do I not? Otherwise I’ll just be writing a puff opinion piece that doesn’t hold much water, I’m a professional after all. (Well I like to think so).

If I was having coffee with you, I’d explain that in social circumstances, stalking….ehem…researching is important as I tend to run into sociopaths more often than I’d like.

As a stalker  researcher, identifying sociopaths is made easier as I don’t have to wait too long to gather evidence of discrepancies  between your “real life” behavior and social media presence.

Now you might be part of They, (yes they’re back *eye roll*) that would at this point jump up and say, “but no one is really as they portray themselves to be on social media!” Though there’s partial truth in this, there are those who are on the polarized extremes. People who, are perfect gentlemen (at this point you’d interject and say perfect ladies too) in person and complete nut jobs online.

Having met a few of these, I still find it surprising at how they manage to balance their personalities. They, (these people who seemingly have opinions on everything) define a sociopath as a person who has Antisocial Personality Disorder.

Apparently, this disorder is characterized by a disregard for the feelings of others, a lack of remorse or shame, manipulative behavior, unchecked egocentricity, and the ability to lie in order to achieve one’s goals.

If I was having coffee with you, you’d just sip your tea and let me rant at this point as I would be visibly worked up by now. You’d see my eyes glaze over and hear the quiver in my voice and realize that I’m speaking truly from experience and know better than to cut me off mid venting session.

You’d listen as I recount the tale of the internet boys, and how they start off normal enough, as perfect gentlemen.

 

Take exhibit A. The Potential Serial Killer (PSK).

*insert Smooth Operator by Sade as soundtrack*

No place for beginners or sensitive hearts
When sentiment is left to chance
No place to be ending but somewhere to start 

No need to ask
He’s a smooth operator
Smooth operator, smooth operator
Smooth operator

At this moment you roll your eyes, knowing what I’m about to say. “You don’t understand, ” I whine, “He’s never a douche with me.”

Yup! You’ve heard that story before I’m sure, but this, this is the real deal. Ask my friends they can attest to this. He is absolutely the most well mannered guy when you meet him. I’m talking, how-do-you-do kissing-your-hand kind of courteous.

He’s witty and funny. Not necessarily the most social person, though he will engage when need be. The PSK is happier to be in the fringes of social interaction, what the conventional might call the wallflowers. He is a social observer; taking people watching to new heights.

His online presence on the other hand, is the complete opposite. His witty humor is uncouth, bordering on barbarian. He is faceless. Perhaps this is a stab at self preservation, to make it harder for people to link his two personalities (well I’m only aware of two). Oh! By the way, did I mention that he’s a Gemini?

At this remark, you’ll have a eureka moment and say that none of this phases you because that makes everything he says or does perfectly logical. I’ll take a sip of my now cold tea and scoff. You don’t get it at all. If he could look at me and greet me with courtesy after ghosting and not flinch a single bit after our reintroduction, he could look you in the eye as he kills you. With not even a flicker of guilt or remorse might I add.

If I were having coffee with you, you’d say I’m just a crazy stalker that didn’t like what I found. I’d polish off my cheesecake and say, “If I wasn’t crazy, I’d be boring.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

COFFEE DIARIES: Date with a new muse.

If I had coffee with you, to be honest, I’d probably drink tea. Not that I don’t like coffee but tea is the perfect beverage, I think, to take when getting to know you.

If I had coffee with you, at your house, I suppose I’d have to drink whatever brand of tea you have. I’d keep my fingers crossed that it was loose leaf tea like Tips or Five Roses (I really don’t like that stuff – even though I drank it growing up).

When you ask me if I prefer tea or coffee, I’ll say tea, and proceed to ask you what kind of tea you have. I’ll say preferably something herbal, and I’ll drink it black. If we were at my house I’d offer you some Dilma Green tea, or Strawberry and Mango, or Black Currant or Peach or some Red Passion Tea from Umoyo (a mix of lemongrass, hibiscus and cinnamon) because I’m big on teas like that. Since it’s your house I’ll settle for a cup of rooibos.

I’ll be very observant and ask you what size of cup you’re making the tea in. Not only will the size determine the number of teaspoons of sugar, but it will also determine how fast I have to drink it. I usually prefer to drink tea in a flask at my house, so I’d use my specific thermos and hand you a cup of whatever beverage you prefer.

If I had coffee with you, (which would turn into tea) I would sit wherever you suggest. It’s your house so I’ll follow your lead. You’ll start a conversation, as hosts are want to do, and I’ll respond accordingly in my quirky and random fashion. Our conversation will carry as we wait to drink our tea – everyone knows you must make it with boiling water and wait for it to cool all the way down before you drink it as is proper.

We’ll talk about childhood tea memories and I’ll retell how when I was a kid, I used to like dipping my bread in my tea (whether it had butter or not). You’ll laugh at my story and egg me on saying, “Tell me another one.” I’ll proceed to tell you about how when we had a lot of guests over (aunties and cousins) we’d have breakfast outside on the veranda. We’d all sit on the mpasa (reed mat) and eat in communion. Sometimes breakfast would be porridge, sometimes bread and sometimes roasted ground nuts and cassava.

We’d trade stories until the taste of bitter dregs reminded us that time had passed and tea had been had. You’d ask me if I wanted another cup and I’d probably say yes. Just so I could listen to stories of your first decade. You’d tell me about your experience with herbal tea, and how not all flowers as pink and bright as the hibiscus – namely bougainvillea – taste as sweet.

If I was having coffee with you I’d have a blast. It would probably be the best coffee date I’ve had in a while.

WHEN do I have coffee with you, I’ll be sure to match what happens against this post.