Your Fuckin Standards

As bloody usual, I have nothing in particular to say. I just feel like swearing a lot tonight.

I rehearsed yet another silent/ in my head monologue last night while I was trying to go to sleep. I have acquired this habit ever since I was a little kid. After another endless horrible day has washed down, I give out long bold speeches in my mind, addressing all the people who dedicated their day to annoying or upsetting me in one way or another. 

If the issue is private, I am usually standing up, facing the person with my harsh words, words I would never muster the courage to say for real.

If the issue is more of a collective one, mainly economical, I would be standing up on a podium with a large crowd in front of me. I would be taking down politicians like it is nobody's business.

Last night, the monologue was addressed to a number of people, some whom know personally, and others whom I don't.The topic was "people's Fuckin standards".

I am sorry but I can't live up to the standards!!! I mean who can??

It is all kinds of standards that I am talking about, starting from how people think you should look and ending with what they think you should do with your life.

Don't get me wrong. It is not that I care about people's standards and their stupid opinions, it is just that I am thoroughly annoyed by their constant nagging and their random splashing of unsought and unnecessary advice.

I will not stop smoking because YOU think it affects my health.

I will not live through yet another diet because YOU think I ought to be thinner.

I will not work as a waitress because YOU think it is better than sitting around unemployed.

I can go on and on with the list, but I won't, because I think you get the point.

This begs the question: What are standards? Who creates them? And most importantly, why do we even worry about them?

Shouldn't everyone have their own standards and live by those and those only?

You can go ahead and shove your standards up your asses - I told you I am in a swearing mood - because that is exactly where they belong. You don't need to share them, you don't need to "spread" them. All you need to do with your fuckin standards is live by them - if you can. And good luck with that.

Girls, Gays And Tea Selections

I myself am wondering what I really want to say in this article. It is just that the title has been haunting me for over a week now. 

I got the idea when I noticed several of my friends - girls and gays especially - fussing about their tea selections. I simply didn't understand what it was ever really about.

For me, tea means a yellow Lipton tea bag, a mug of hot water and two cubes of sugar. For them, tea means a ridiculously colorful selection of boxes, paper bags, nylon bags and tasteless aromas.

When did tea become so complicated??

I remember when I was little and we would go to my grandparents' house in the village, my grandmother would send us out to the woods to collect flowers - I am not sure of the flowers' name but they were pretty much basic white flowers with lots of petals - and then she would somehow make tea leaves from the bouquet. 

There is a small coffee shop - or tea shop to be more precise - that I really like, but I stopped going there a while ago, because frankly, I never know what to order. And whatever I do eventually order turns out to suck! People specifically go to that shop because of its wide variety of teas. I have tried nearly everything. Jasmin tea, blueberry tea, bla bla tea. None ever worked for me. None did the trick. I always end up with the feeling that I am the victim of a tea trick or something as stupid as that thought. 

I am simply dumbfounded by all this complexity. I mean tea should just be tea. And this goes for all kinds of beverage. I couldn't care less if the coffee I am drinking is a Brazilian brew or a Colombian one. You could sell me a Malaysian brew for all I care. Coffee is coffee. It is either good or bad, regardless its country of origin, regardless whose feet it was stomped on with.