Blonde Barista

I'd planned to do this post earlier, but I've been so lazy as of late I just.

Well. Didn't do it, duh.


From henceforth, I shall refer to him as B.Barista namely because
a) I want to keep his identity fairly anonymous
and
b) it's just so much funner this way, don't you think?


Here's how we met via tumblr:

i’m jittery

(isn’t that such a fun word?).

My get-through-the-day coffee was making me tremble, but here I am lining up for another expresso shot. I woke up late but managed to sneak into class without my professor knowing any better, much to the bemusement of my girlfriends. We’re on our break now, which meant that I had spent exactly five minutes at my desk before everyone was dismissed.

The blonde barista is working today. Right now, he was busy pulling at the coffee lever with one hand; his other one was wrapped up in a cast and, most likely the result of being an art student, graffiti’d beyond recognition of one. He looks up expectedly and flashes me one of those Colgate-smiles.

Before I say anything, he runs up my order and triumphantly serves my coffee before I even reached the counter.

“Um, thanks.” I fish out my card from my wallet. “D’you guys take card?”

“Yeah, but there’s a minimum, unfortunately.” He gestures towards the jars of cookies and muffins. “Would you like a muffin?”

I really wouldn’t. “Alright,” I say resignedly. He swipes my card through the machine, but after a moment it comes up as being declined. Embarrassed, I tried to explain myself: “I swear there’s money on that card.”

He’s bemused. “Are you sure about that?” I insist that my card always fails to work at inappropriate times and after three more attempts, it mercifully ran through. By the end of it, we were both laughing and pretending there wasn’t a group of annoyed people lining up behind me.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologise sheepishly and turned to leave with my coffee.

“Wait, don’t forget your muffins.” He all but throws me the brown bag and I quickly weave through the coffeehouse traffic, aware of the dagger-looks everyone was giving me for taking so long.

By the time I got back to my table and relayed what happened to my girlfriends, I realised his use of plurals wasn’t an accident—he’d given me three extra muffins and those annoying yo-yo biscuits everyone else seems to love. As predicted, the girls insist that I went back to get his number “because he is like, so adorable!”. 

“I can’t,” I say, trying to reason with my irrational friends, “his manager is there, and I would rather not be banned from the one coffee shop on campus, guys.” I shrug. “Besides, I need to stop being so impulsive. It has never worked out for me. I should just resign myself to the fact that Melbourne is not the place where it is okay for girls to approach guys.”

“Stop being a pussy,” Elaina says dryly. I remain steadfast in my decision to stop being myself for one day and ignore their protestations, changing the topic to the upcoming pub crawl we were all going to.

After a while, we all voted to go back to class but Elaina decides she wanted a hot chocolate beforehand. She drags me to the counter and the barista grins at us.

“Order for me,” she mutters and looks through her bag.

I roll my eyes at her before turning to him. “Could I grab a hot chocolate please?”

“Sure, is that all you want for today?” Before I could reply, Elaina cuts in.

“Actually, I think she’d like your number as well,” she blurts out. My face flushes so hot that it feels as though someone had lit my skin on fire. I open my mouth to say something, anything really, but he beats me to it.

“Sure. Can I have your phone for a sec?” Elaina pulls my phone out of my back jeans pocket and hands it to him. He adds his number and hands it back to me.

“She’ll call you,” my friend says, nudging me out the door.

“I hope she does.”

When we were finally outside, I spin around and shake her playfully.
“You are so embarrassing!” I cry out between laughs. “It was so awkward standing there!”
She giggles. “I know, sorry! I just thought you had to go for it.”
“I didn’t want to! Oh god, promise me you’ll never attempt to wingman me ever again.”
“Promise me you won’t stop being crazy impulsive. If you stopped randomly hitting on guys, what are we going to have to talk about over coffee?”
“Point taken.”

It was probably the least romantic, least remarkable and significant, of all meetings. And yet fast forward through everything and we've reached a point where B.Barista has become a part of my daily routine; so pointedly embedded into my every day life that it feels strange not to be talking to him at the end of every night, recounting the day in minute details, regardless of whether or not we'd spent the whole time together.


He's very charming, and he makes me laugh and every time he smiles I get this feeling that leaves me feeling breathless. He knows how to handle me even when I'm experiencing one of my wide spectrum of emotions and it's an incredible feeling knowing someone simply gets me just like that.


He makes me very happy. I'm really grateful to have him in my life at the moment. This post seems rather incomplete somehow, like it's not really my style of writing. I'm just a tad tired, tis'all. Shall update some more tomorrow :) Goodnight all.

Show me some love:

Krooked Karma

So I just experienced the strangest round of karma today. I stayed up pretty much all night talking to Blonde Barista* but woke up on time, only to realize that my outfit wasn't exactly appropriate for the Melbourne weather.

Strike one.

I walked into my exam feeling lethargic but it turned out to be so easy that I pretty much killed it in half an hour. Walked out the station with my girls and realize that I had lost my wallet. Ran back and realized it was gone.

Strike two.

Went to security and the guy was giving me attitude. Got the slight impression he was trying to question my mental state because I was on the verge of hysteria- was not happy with him. Went to MONSU and met the sweetest girl who offered me a Myki so that I could get home on the train; turns out the card had over $60 dollars in it already.

Home run.

Seriously hoping the ticket inspectors don't demand to know where my concession card is; somehow I get the feeling they wouldn't buy my story about how I'd conveniently lost my wallet.

Strange day so far. Not going to hang around or it to get any weirder. Skipping class today and just spending it in bed.


*never got around to talking about Blonde Barista. Will get onto that when I have time. Finally at home now and will just sleep this mess off. All in all I've lost all my cards, around $100 and my dignity. Just going to sleep off this woe now. Bye world.

Show me some love:

where have you been babe?

I haven't had a chance to properly blog. My therapist was very insistent that I keep journaling, but university's been so keeping me so busy that I haven't even had time to catch my breath. In fact, in less than 24 hours from now, I have an exam that's worth a lot of my overall mark. 

I have yet to study for it.

I've been catching up with my queer boys lately. Last Friday, we went out to The Bottom End club where they were promoting a Nicki Minaj themed-after party. We were celebrating one of our friend's 18th as well, and managed to walk into the club a little before midnight before getting rather wasted on the dance-floor (no alcohol for me, as always).

It was such a blast.

Happy birthday lovey!! Hope you enjoyed the amazing night as much as we did!


Love,

Vk

Show me some love:

white-washed

“asian redhead!”

we’re having Japanese cuisine in a small, cramped store, tucked away in one of Melbourne’s famous alleyways. the thick aroma of fried, breaded chicken and hot steamed rice creeps into every bare inch of the place, which was never very spacious to begin with. each patron sit side-by-side, shoulders touching and elbows politely tucked to stiff sides. still, the food was fantastic and people keep coming back, despite the fact that there was almost never any seats or tables to dine at.

as per Wednesday routine, i find myself having lunch here after classes today. college exams start next week, and there was a million and one thing vying for my attention. still, all i could think about was the mouth-watering katsu-don that was making its way over to me, carefully balanced on a tray by the cute Japanese waitress with the loose side-bun.

“that’s what they call me,” i say resignedly, as she props the bowls in front of us. “i don’t know how i feel about being defined by my race and hair colour, but there we have it.”

my friend, an international student who i’d initially befriended due to our shared love for green tea, was already wolfing down his meal. for the most part, our conversation existed in between punctuated words without the double-sided meaning that the English language is so infamous for. there is a language boundary between us: sometimes he would simply revert back to speaking Mandarin and i would simply have to pry loose the words i could understand. still, the conversations we have are the sort i can enjoy for hours on end: we understand each other and there is a mutual “i get you”-ness that is so rare nowadays.

“your boyfriend—he Australian?” the matter-of-factness in his tone makes me smile. my friend’s world does not revolve around hyponyms: to him, an “Australian boy” will always be white.

i cock my head to one side. “what made you instantly assume that?” i ask, laughing.

“‘cause,” he says earnestly, and points to me, “don’t date Asian people. you’re the person to date Australian.”

“that’s not true,” i point out. “i’ve dated Asian guys before.” i felt as though i was trying to defend myself, but i knew he didn’t mean for it to come off critically. he was simply making an observation, albeit in a rather clinical way. 

he shrugs. “i can’t see that.” he meant that he couldn’t imagine me dating someone of Asian-descent, but like i said before—he had a very truncated way of communicating, but i never had to think twice about what he was trying to convey.

i would be more surprised at my friend’s remark, but this was not the first time someone has pointed out that they couldn’t see me dating people other than “Australian boys”.

i smile and we finish up our meals in companionable silence, allowing the life and noise of the busy restaurant to envelope us. after, we squeeze our way outside to be greeted by the freezing Melbourne weather. i affectionately link arms with him as we walk out of the lane-ways, gradually merging in with the traffic of the CBD.

“you don’t act very Vietnamese much,” he comments casually.

“that’s ‘cause i’m actually Australian,” i reply playfully.

“you are. sometimes i forget you are Asian.” as always, the off-handedness in his remark was easy to misplace. yet as we continue walking, i couldn’t help thinking how right he was. this wasn’t the first time someone has mentioned how “white-washed” i’ve become. 

i don’t know how i feel about this.


Love,

Vk

Show me some love:

From up here

recently i've been thinking about my pilgrimage to Cambodia earlier this year.


it had come at a really dark period in my life, and the trip was very humbling for me. i recall standing atop a man-made mountain in Angkor Wat and feeling overwhelmed with emotions. i can't, for the life of me, describe how i felt being there at that very moment: all i can remember is that lightness in my chest and recognising that i have never drawn an easier breath in my entire life. i felt light; untouchable--


redeemed.


the view from that high up was enough to make me want to burst into tears, but i couldn't stop smiling. i was finally at peace with myself, and that was something i couldn't explain to anyone. it was one of the most enlightening, cathartic moment of my entire existence.


at this point in my life, i could really do with some spirituality from back then.

Show me some love:

no direction..

This weather is seriously getting me down. I've been eating so many citrus fruits that I feel all lemon-y.


I've been thinking of chopping off my hair and getting a boy-cut. I've been dying to dye it an ash grey colour, but the red is so pigmented I just know that it'd stain. I really don't want to walk around with fairy-floss hair :(


Anyway, I've signed up to my college's gym. I remember when I was going through a rough patch in high school--that's when I started running every day, and it proved to be a good way to relieve stress. Hopefully I'll stick to it every day; geesus, the fees itself is going to leave a rather huge dent in my wallet. The amount of times I work a week isn't really going to help with the crazy lifestyle. I'm going to have to cut back on all the times I go out if I hope to even have a dime in my wallet by the time December rolls around--


did I mention I'm going over to Asia again?


I honest-to-god need some sort of direction in my life. Sighs.

Show me some love:

bland.

it was weird. i didn't even want to be around people today even though i had initiated the date.

met up with Alec after i went to the gym, and felt ashamed that i was glad he had to leave for work. i'm sitting at the library in Monash now and despite it being Sunday evening, it's quite packed. i'm starting to sketch this law student sitting opposite me; i know she's a law student, because no Caulfield kid carries that many books and takes herself that seriously. the way she frowns is so hard to pinpoint: it's a specific kind of concentration that makes me envious. i know how strange that sounds, but ask me when the last time i gave enough crap to care about something the way she does now and i won't be able to answer you.

i won't be able to remember.

i'm at a loss. i've become so indifferent it's making me sick. and on the rare occasions i'm able to drift off to sleep, i keep having these weird nightmares.

i don't know anymore. i'm always exhausted and constantly unhappy. i think i'm going to stop going on the Internet to get my shit together. sighs.

Show me some love: