The Magnificent World of Coffee When you wake up in the morning and you do NOT feel like P. Diddy sometimes all you need is a big ole cup of coffee to jump-start your day. Coffee has gone by many different names‚ wakey juice‚ mud‚ plasma‚ go juice‚ jo‚ cuppa‚ the daily grind and brewtus. However‚ unlike the many names over the years‚ the feeling of the warm and welcoming liquids filling every inch of your body will always stand the test of time. Waking up can be the ultimate struggle. Just imagine
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Hwy 30A Thousands of excited people head to Seagrove Beach every year. The smell of saltwater‚ the taste of the delicious food‚ and the view of the glimmering blue ocean all come together to make for a memorable place. Vacations help us relax from our daily lives. Visiting Seagrove is a joyous occasion for me every few weeks I go. The sights‚ smells‚ and tastes of the beach put my senses on end every time. My brother feels the same way when we go to the beach. The smell of the salty water gives
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All I heard was dogs barking. I rolled over and looked at the time. It was 6:48. I got up and got dressed. Mom was already waiting for me downstairs. We went outside and walked down the road to the bus stop. I was so sleepy but I had already made a commitment and I just couldn’t back out. The bus came and we got on. It was so warm and toasty‚ the perfect atmosphere to take a nap. Within minutes my eyes started to droop‚ I just couldn’t keep them open. Then without even realizing it‚ I was fast asleep
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CHAPTER ONE: The only decoration in my locker was an old ninja turtles band-aid stuck on the inside from someone in a previous year. I hadn’t bothered to peel it off. The blue paint was slowly peeling off and the lock only worked half the time. I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and shook it out before grabbing my textbook out of the locker. My nails were bitten short with chipped blue nail polish. Last class I had destroyed them with anxiety. I shut my locker in frustration‚ knowing the next
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1/21/14 Bumps and Bruises I’m tired and restless after a mentally draining day at school. There are blurred lights and angry drivers all around me as the tires of my car grind against the cold concrete. My dad pulls into the back parking lot and signals for me to get out of the car. I groan‚ knowing that I am in for a long practice‚ and slowly drag myself out of the front seat. I lug my hockey bags out of the trunk‚ and they become another nagging reminder of the grueling workout I’m
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I woke up one April morning with the chickadees chirping rapidly in the tree branches. I threw my pants and socks on and rushed down the stairs as the smell of fresh bread assaulted my nose. Mom was already awake and greeted me with a slice of crispy toast‚ the butter was perfectly melted and seeped into the crust one squeeze‚ and it oozed out and dripped on the floor. Once I put my boots on‚ my feet were excited and before I knew it‚ I was flying out the door. One step outside and the smell of melting
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I sigh lowering into an old wooden chair seated in a corner of the small shop I happened upon. Placing my warm drink on the rickety table‚ I stare out a nearby window and give a slight shiver. Grabbing the edges of my worn wool coat I pull the old coat tighter. The action doesn’t do much itself‚ but it makes me feel better. I look outside again‚ my eyes drifting over dull‚ empty markets‚ the slow rain drizzles down the pane of glass as I continue to look outside. A heavy cloud of gray has been hanging
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I stop at the edge of the graveyard. I am thoroughly equivocal about what to do. The wind whistles through the trees and the branches rattle the windows of a nearby building. My hands clutch the handlebars of my bike. I stare in the dark at the text message on my phone-- “ meet me in the graveyard at 9:00 and I’ll give you the photo.” My mind implores me to turn around‚ but my heart compels me to keep moving. The rain changes from a drizzle to a downpour. A whooshing sound startles me and I look
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While the mob and their torches believe I am still on the other side of their camp‚ I waste no time in setting off my last great plan for this morning. While it may be true that they dug their fires into pits in the ground to hide from me‚ they will regret making it so easy for me to access them. Gripping my filth ridden rod tightly I make a final jab‚ into their very own fire pit‚ striking it as though it were one of the petty brigands. It doesn’t take very long for the rod to become engulfed in
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Naturally by this time my aching loneliness glides in like an empty cloud drifting afar in the dead of night. All presence of faith deserted long before the scorching sun inhaled its last breath‚ in order for the moon to be reborn. Yet unmistakably it’ll only be the sun welcoming my dispirited morning as any glimpse of faith is hushed by my heavy thoughts‚ which deeply desire to remain firmly rooted in my mascara stained pillow. A reminder of the all the endless nights I overfilled with enough tears
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