Today I Had Too Much Tea

My weekends have never been so well spent, the same as how my allowance has never been so mercilessly spent. Well, in a capitalist society, one cannot expect to be a part of what is social without commodifying oneself. If the world sees individuals as mere commodities, then why not indulge in the mechanics of this exploitative cycle by flaunting meaningless pieces of paper in the faces of those whose lives are determined by quantitative value? By no fault of their own are their lives numerical.

I wandered from café to café this Saturday, meeting friends, sharing Bingsu, indulging in Murakami, and consuming way too much caffeine. By caffeine, I do not refer strictly to coffee, but to green tea as well. Not a cup or two, but a potful at a tea specialist-- this was after I had indulged in two pots of fruit tea washed away by a glass of iced Long Black at the previous two stops. This intake of caffeine does not simply cast Bloodlust on my body, instead, it's a Power Overwhelming that will destroy me at the end of its effective period. As a sort of consolation, I tell myself that the tea was infused with Lavender that calms the nerves.

Why are we infatuated with European culture? Google recommendations for tea houses around PJ and you'll see reviews of elaborate high tea with disgusting pastel-coloured macaroons, Victorian sponge cakes, and scones baked out of shape. It's infuriating, at least to a person who cannot fathom the obsession normal humans have with sweets, in all forms, whether spongy or crunchy. All the frills associated with tea time, I would like to cut them all off with a pair of scissors that were made in China. I suppose this is cultural imperialism at its finest, to have others worship your culture without having to beat them into conformity. I for one like my tea plain, like my life, instead of adding milk and sugar into it, as if placing an elaborately decorated cup on a saucer isn't pretentious enough.

There is much to criticize. But of course, I look at myself as well and ponder upon the fascination I have towards certain cultures and their people. Why is it that I show interest? Do I want to be LIKE them, to BECOME them? Or is it simply because I am an evil motherfucker who wishes to walk on all paths of life just so I can learn the vulnerabilities that can be used to break them? Who knows? Maybe I simply want to belong, so badly, that I am willing to become one whose identity is as fluid as the seawater that laps against all shores.

As much as I would like to belong, some core principles will just never change:

Rice shall always reign superior. 

Bread is what I cannot accept, and dairy products are the bane of my existence. 

Let us slurp our noodles til the end of time.