Coffee

I can honestly say I like my coffee black. I learned how to drink black coffee. I had no choice.

I miss coffee shops on every corner. I miss taking a cup of coffee out and walking with it on the street. That part of North American culture still hasn't crossed the Atlantic. People here still have time to sit and drink their coffee.

I found a coffee shop in a food court at a mall. I can order a cup of black coffee (one shot of espresso) and they pour it into a paper cup and put a lid on it. I get looks when I walk around with it on the street and drink from it. It's not the same coffee, but I can only put sugar in it. If I ask for milk, they make a latte. And there is no such thing as self service to cream and sugar.

My search for coffee has led me to McDonald's. There must be an international standard to coffee, right? Well, almost. It smelled like it, but it tasted way too creamy. The cream must have been 50%. But, close enough. The search continues.

It's nice and warm here now. No more jacket, instead sandals and short sleeves. I've been taking walks with my mother to stores. Did a bit of shopping and found some really neat things.

I'm still not stress-free. Still struggling to make decisions on a daily basis. I don't know what I need right now. I don't know what to do right now. I am all out of ideas of what would make me better.

My friends ask me to go out with them and there are nights where I can't make up my mind. They think I'm ignoring them, but in fact, I'm still thinking about the answer.

And let's not talk about my final projects.

And let's not talk about my work in Istanbul.

These two things frighten me and send me into panic attacks.

Baby steps all over again.