Coffee Girl reaches 4-year milestone today...

First post for the 2015, and here I go registering my 4-year old existence today as Coffee Girl.

For a long while, I have kept writing and drafting posts all along going by the rule that a blog is about being written and not about being read. Some things however do change, have changed and will keep changing. And sometimes I hit a wall and thought of taking a break, but I wrote on because having gone this far, it'd be a shame to just stop midway. And also most importantly, because having you as readers have kept me going all this while.
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So whether you're an ardent follower, outright supporter, silent reader, subtle stalker, shadow chaser... This is for you. Thank you all for reading me and following my blog, Not to be dramatic, but you have no idea how much you mean to this blog.

I didn't choose the mug life. The mug life chose me. And so today I will drink coffee, smile and be thankful.

Happy 4th Year Coffee Girl! Let's hope we can make better posts and more meaningful writeups this year.

New name, same game...

So if you got here safe and sound, then you were probably redirected from the old blog link or I must've given you a fair trail to track on.

Welcome... welcome...

Why the blog url change? Because after having quite a few (which was either deleted, deactivated, blocked...) blogs with the last one having a rather longish and troublesome to remember, the author has decided to stick to a simpler and shorter version of herself. Albeit, a new name but still  the same game.

And because I cannot entirely leave coffee off the conversation, no matter how much I  tried, we'll just stick with Coffee Girl because that's kinda like a household (in my dreams lah) name already. =) Still the same old me. Change of status does not mean change of heart.

Ah... cured. Coffee makes everything looks straight again...

As such, hopefully, my faithful followers and silent readers alike will keep me safely relinked in your respective blogs... I would totally appreciate the gesture. And although I usually refrain from making any promises I cannot keep, I hereby resolve to be diligent and consistent in updating from now on. So help us God.

Carry on people. =) You all have a good Monday now!

Coffee Girl, the quarter of a story...

When I started with this blog, I had half of an idea of what I wanted to write about. I barely remember why after filtering many possible names to call myself, I ended up with Coffee Girl.

Half of the truth behind the name was that this isn't the first blog I ever owned. This is the fourth after the rest were opened and shut down and opened and shut down one after another. And with each blog came a different heading, a different theme, a different idea, and a different name. After the bleak repose and the drama that came with it, the storms eventually calmed down. Coffee Girl came, slowly blossoming, and most importantly, stayed.

Of all the names I chose for myself before, this one is the least likely to live up to its name. Truthfully, I love coffee but so does a million other women in this world. Friends and peers of the fairer sex who took a daily dose of caffeine to enable them to look the world in the eye one challenging day after another. None of us can have that exclusivity. If at all, we all have that right.

What's in a name? I don't have a real agenda. But whatever and whoever has touched my life has made it into these pages. Their stories and mine connected, has been turned into words. Sometimes it makes sense. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes I write incoherently, but surprisingly some readers get me. Sometimes I take aim and miss and sometimes I shoot straight into the air at nothing for reasons unknown or reasons not made known, or no reason at all.

It's the 5th day of November. This is the last month of my life as a single woman. I've always known someday that this part of my life will unfold and that path will be laid in front of me. Ask me if I am scared. Ask me if I am excited. Ask me if I am ready. There are no well-prepped answers for some of life's greatest mystery. The thing to do is have faith and take the reign and enjoy the ride.

Coffee Girl loves coffee, but lately she has revolted. She used to love writing, but now she hardly updates this blog, and apologizing for every remiss. She used to love country music, but lately she stopped Googling for good new songs. She used to love romance novel, but even the last book she bought a year ago stays untouched. She used to love the outdoor and getting sweaty with nature, but her snickers stopped stepping on mud after trekking back from Kinabalu Summit. Has she changed all that much? Perhaps.

Are those good or bad changes? Coffee Girl sees more of the world now, taking trips outside of her comfort zone, stuffs she thought she'd never do or never had the chance to in the past. She takes more care of herself now too, and caring for another. When it comes to evening things up, the lady wins after all. I mean, doesn't love do crazy things to people sometimes?

Writing a blog was the best decision I ever made. It opened the world for me, and the world open up to me. Who's to say what other good things will come out of this?

I don't know where I am actually going with this entry, but when I started, I had a whiff of an idea that some things need explaining. As I reach this line, I believe that some stuffs shouldn't really be explained. Some things are just bigger than what's right in front of you.

I run by a name, but this name isn't mine. This isn't about coffee. This is about life.

Yours truly,
One of the many true blue Coffee Girls.
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That stuff about blogging ...

So there I was half-way to the buffet table holding my huge empty heavy dinner plate, and got waylaid by a familiar face who's more interested in what I was doing there than who I was with. Sometimes familiarity and history tend to make people think that they have every right to shoot all kinds of questions at you and you're obligated to answer. And sometimes you answer anyway because you tend to think that you owe them some sort of explanations and all that we-go-way-back crap.

Actually, I was a little irked and annoyed that someone with that level of work experience, field expertise, education, and so-called openmindedness could be both sarcastic and cynical when it comes to technology and social media. I mean, the world is revolving, and if we don't catch up, or at least follow the progress from a safe distance, we'll forever be backward and stuck in the dark ages of our own mind.

Oh I was talking about blogging actually. Getting there now. Everytime I think about that few minutes of bothering to explain myself to the man, I just get riled up all over again. He knew I had been blogging for a few years already, and admittedly when I first started, the content were a little immature, personal, sometimes too dark and depressing, and without any focus. But now the content is more guided and focused and has grown up with me.

Still... I think that's the beauty of a blog. You can be random, you can be focused, and you can be you the best (or the worst) that you can be, or even grow up with it, like I did.

So, his questions? Bits and pieces of them sounded like this...

"I remember some of you were in the group with the media when we were doing this development coverage. I mean, bloggers? Come on. Have you seen any of the stuffs they write?"

To myself: Oh yes I have, they're good stuffs too. Good job. Nice. Knowing you even read them makes me proud of them bloggers yo...

"Why are you  telling the world what your room looks like, what toothpaste you use, what you eat, how you hold your chopstick, bla bla bla ... as if anyone would be interested? And then mixing with the press as if you're a reporter, I'm sorry to say, but your reports are not even newspaper stuff. Some of them are not even qualified to be called a writer... If you can call yourself that. A blogger.. come on. I don't  know why you guys even get invited. Free stuff?"

Ok I have to stop myself right here before I make myself upset again. Oh yeah, it was that hostile, stemming from, I suspected, the threat of a mere blogger standing right in front of him who gets invited to the same event as he was, treated with the same respect, and probably gets more hits and readership than he does. But then again, he wasn't talking about me, he was merely generally expressing his opinions (although I don't remember asking for them) about blogging and those closely or directly associated with it.

I let him finish before I politely answered. Was even getting a little defensive already because oh that did touch a nerve. At best, blogging is something I do in my free time, I write about stuffs that caught my fancy, I defended issues that are close to my heart, I expressed myself freely but always within the bounds of proprietary and the law, I tried not to offend any parties or groups or race or culture, I vent about life in general, and I read all other blogs that are worth reading. But then, anything worth writing is always worth reading.

That's the best part about blogging. It's not the same as writing for the press, sir, as if you don't already know. It's not even pure journalism stuff. In fact we didn't learn this in MassComm classes in my days. True, we're reporting on something sometimes, but you can't compare lil known us with you reporters from the press. We never even claim to be one. Those that do, they probably earned it. I'm humbled that I could even be invited to the same events as you are, to do a little coverage on the same stuff we attended, to write my piece in my own words, and to construct a complete entry that will never get through the editor's desk before I hit the 'post' button.

So what if we write day to day accounts of our journeys? So what if we take pictures and share them? So what if we have grammar mistakes sometimes, or that we repeat ourselves, or that we write not according to your set of rules? So what if we state our views and even be vain sometimes? We don't have an editor that checks our drafts nor do we need one, because we are each responsible for whatever we put up in the Internet. Don't you think we know that? Those who don't or ignore that bit, well, that's up to them.

You see, when writers are not being edited or corrected or rewritten, that's when the real opinion comes out, as honest as it gets. You don't have to like it all the time, you only need to evaluate it and decide whether to believe it, accept it, challenge it, or push it aside and discard it. Or if you want to drag some of them to jail, that's up to you too, since we have all been warned and so do you.

If you worry about why I'm here, ask the organisers, they're the ones doing the invitations. Don't be threaten by me or my peers, Sir, we're merely journal writers. Half of what we write will never even make it to the press. We are all aware that the medium is evolving very fast ... But that's another enty.

What I don't get is he is being paid for his job. I'm doing it for free. So, what is the problem again? I won't stop blogging just because you call my writing worthless. You should try it sometimes too, it's really therapeutic.

P/s: If any of my reporter/journalist friends is reading this, please don't be offended. Merely having a moment. And I claim the above as my own sole opinion on blogging/bloggers and not influenced or have anything to do with anyone/anything. And yes despite this difference in opinions, I am still friends with the man.

Silk stalking ...

Chance meeting at a coffee break, about a few weeks ago.

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"Sit ma'am, sit here," the bespectacled stranger in the black jacket motioned with his hand for me to take a chair next to him at the refreshment table. "I noticed you since this morning. Yes, that look in your eyes, it drew me," he explained. Who is this stranger? I thought. The whole conference hall housed at least 300 other patrons right then, so explain how a mere slip of a girl like me could just draw a person with her eyes. Come to think of it, I had felt a strong sensation of being watched because my shoulder blade was constantly itching.

Nevertheless, not to be rude, I sat down and looked at him expectantly. What other bizarre things would he say now?

"I'm Simon, you never heard of me, but I have heard of your father. And I didn't expect to see his daughter here, although I do apologize I might sound like a stalker. But with your surname and the area you registered you were from, I supposed there is only one person by that name there, and you must be closely related to him," he smiled, showing perfect teeth and looking at me with that eyes that quite rightly looked like they must have seen everything. "Are you?" He asked. I blinked. "His daughter?" He rephrased.

I blinked some more. "Yes, yes. Like you said, there is only one person by that name there, so yes I am," I reaffirmed his words, and sat straight to at least give the impression that I wasn't as startled as I must have sounded. He smiled that knowing smile. Perceptiveness, hmm.

"Forgive me, but I am very concerned," he started. OK. "I see trouble in your eyes," he said slowly as if looking for the right words to express himself without confusing me more. And merely gazed into my eyes. Some men have been known to use that trick, but there was something about him that was strangely familiar. He looked intelligent -- but let's not get ahead of ourselves -- for someone that looked to be in his late twenties. And  I must be doing more blinking in the space of 5 minutes than I did my entire life because all I did was stare at him and motioned with my eyes for him to go on and tell me more.

"I don't really know who you are but you shouldn't wear your heart on your sleeve like that," he spoke as if to a child. Wait a minute. What? "Tell me what's bothering you."

"Excuse me Sir, but why do you presume there's something bothering me?" I asked, slowly and warily, at the same time maintaining the eye contact. "You don't really know me, and as for knowing you... well, even if I am whatever you say just now, why would I tell you?" There. Putting on a smile that didn't quite feel convincing, but defiance was the only armor I have then. But damn it, he piqued my curiosity already..

He slowly raised his head, gave me a one-over and just when I thought he was going to give me another one of his all-knowing smiles, he slapped his hands on his knees and leaned back. 

"You're single?"

"Pardon?"

"Are you seeing anybody?"

"What? What has that got to do with anything? What's my father got to do with this?"

"Oh. you are single and not seeing anybody! Just my blessed luck. So that's where the troubled looks come from." Leaned back and smiled and gazed.

"Mr. Simon..." With a warning tone.

"Are you always so defensive?"

"Are you always so invasive?"

"Ditto. My apology miss. I was merely curious. Do you want to have coffee sometimes?"

"We're having coffee now."

"I mean as in away from this scene, like in a coffee date. I know you like coffee."

"How do you know that? Maybe I like tea."

"Nah, you look like a coffee person. Besides I read your blog."

"Oh.... you do? How?"

"You're listed, right? Don't worry, I'm not usually like this. I could continue to watch from a distance and I could be wrong." Laughed softly. "It's all a big coincidence and I saw you there and I just kind of know it's you."

"Oook. Where did you say you come from again?"

"I didn't." Smiled. "I must insist we carry on this conversation outside of this boring conference here. Another 5 minutes break. What do you say, Miss Coffee Girl?"

"Give me one good reason why I must accept a coffee invitation from someone who could be a potential stalker, who might I add, is practically a random stranger who knows my dad! How strange and yet irrelevant is that?"

"You are an intriguing woman with a wonderful sense of humor, sarcastic at just the right tone, and something about that brain of yours that calls to me like a song. Like you're speaking some of my thoughts and while I failed at putting them in words, you succeeded quite unexpectedly. Come on, don't let me tell you all now. I need some ammunition for confronting a possible mirror of myself." Smiled widely. "Do it for the coffee."

"Mirror huh? For a complete stranger, you do know how to choose your words. Flattered. Very. Ok, I accept then."

"Great. Shall we go right after the final sessions?"

"Afraid I'll change my mind?"

"I know you wont. Coffee lovers take their words seriously."

"Hmm... you're right." That's the most subtle form of blackmail ever used on me.

"Wait... and that little info about my dad?"

"Coincidentally, I do know him. Sorry, but he really makes a good pickup line, isnt he?" Laughed at himself.

"I'll let him know."

* * * *
Scored 6 for derailing on random topics.
Scored 7 for originality.
Scored 8 for stealth stalking method.
Scored 9 for brilliant show of chivalry.
Scored 10 for using dad. Almost didn't see that coming.

And he reads my blog! Extra points.

Oh let's just leave the episode at that, shall we? So hey, you, if you're reading this, thanks for the coffee. And the permission to recount it. Use my dad's name in vain again and I will personally bring you to see him. Haha.

On another note, anybody else stalking me out there? Come out in the open, buy me coffee and who knows I could make an entry about you too.

Note: Name has been changed to protect identity.