iPod bean-bag tea

I live in two worlds, or as I come to think of it, perhaps more than two but not one. I had spent the day, I hope my seniors at office never get to know about this, in the library scanning journal after journal, sticking to a book for a few minutes and searching for more the next moment, my iPod fixated in my ears, my mind fixated on the various contrasting lyrics, while my eyes scanned and absorbed more words, more phrases, as I attached meanings, separately to the words read off the books and the words poured into my ears via the iPod, which though I felt the desire to switch off more than once, but couldn’t.

Was I searching for peace in rumble, patterns in chaos?

I was half lost in the fantasy world, but half alive in the tangible world that pricks, to remind of its presence and either soothes by reassuring there is hard ground, not far from the wielding mud of the mystic world, or irritates by way of sad enlightenment that the other world is lost in translation as the half tired eyes open to frightening light.

I wanted tea.

I struggled out of the bean-bag which when I looked back at, was giving me a false sense of terror; bean-bags take the shape of our body and looking back at the large depression I had caused in the middle I was irked enough I had to feel my bum to reassure myself I had not grown drastically out of proportion.

I needed tea more. I walked up to the dispenser. I took two tea bags and added no sugar. I needed tea, I didn’t care if it was or not tas-tee!

It was caffeine my body had ordered and I obeyed.

Some people like to gulp their tea down, some like to take it in slowly, sniffing the aroma and gazing into vacant air. It’s about the sense of rejuvenation, the feeling of revival.

How I drink my tea, I have noticed, is often driven by my mood.

From the carefree laziness of the afternoon, an old familiar sense of unease was settling in. While I am not the best of disciples of discipline, missing deadlines I set for myself irks me no end. I wanted to get to my desk quickly and bury head into the paper I was reading and had left unfinished. So, I was gulping my tea.

Not good for the tongue. Burnt!
Not good for the palette. Burnt!

Dinner tonight, I thought, would not taste. Good in a way for I would have one temptation less to leave my chair and hit the mess. But I could still relish the aroma. A smile followed a frown. What could I do to keep my sensories in check? Pick a straw & suck up some hot tea and burn my nostrils!! What was I doing with my tea, I wondered. Was I smuggling back into the lazy fantasy world?

Nooooo
I shook my head and blinked my eyes twice and walked up to my desk.