Column:
Twenty minutes ago, when I stumbled out of my...
Published Sept. 21, 2007
Twenty minutes ago, when I stumbled out of my room under the thickest of hazes, I found my roommates in the living room in varying states of productiveness. They both turned to look at me, bedecked as I was in pink pajamas with clouds on them and a fat shirt, my mascara smeared across half of my face and one drooping eye.
"Nap?" one of them guessed.
"RRfnffghfhhfhgbnnnnnng," I mumbled in response.
A few days ago my doctor revealed to me that consuming any caffeine at all would have a very adverse affect on my health. I'd noticed a bizarre arrhythmia a couple weeks before that became the reason for said appointment — namely, that my heart rate would never be normal again.
Fuck.
So I emerged from my darkened enclave, bottle of SmartWater in one hand and fistful of carbs in the other. I'd been napping for almost four days straight. My body will not — nay — cannot accept the new notion that we're breaking up with caffeine forever.
I'd never realized before this moment how dependent every college student is on such a simple chemical, a mere afterthought in products like Diet Coke and Dr Pepper. Just think: how many refills of your favorite syrupy beverage do you normally go for during dinner at Shakespeare's? Four? Five? The thought strikes terror deep into my ventricles.
I think what disturbs me the most about this unfortunate turn of events is that I have been completely unable to function with this newfound hole in my diet. Earlier, my roommate asked me why my face was so close to her, and I told her it was because I wanted to stick my nose in her hair, because it looked like it would smell nice. Half a second later, I was craning my neck toward the window in some sort of ritualistic crazy spasm, informing her that there were thunderstorms "in the yonders," but not here. I am not bat-shit insane; I just cannot form coherent thoughts anymore.
I've had 10 caffeine free Diet Cokes today. I think maybe I am convinced they might have left some caffeine accidentally in the bottom of the can, at least enough to partially lift this woolen haze from over my eyes. It hasn't worked. Neither has eating the contents of my fridge. I'd go so far to say that even the most carb-laden sustenance is no match for the wonderful, alert ways of caffeine.
The worst part of all of this is that I work at Starbucks. At work today, I was gripped with a new brand of deep-seated envy every time I handed a sweatshirt-clad girl her triple venti sugar-free vanilla nonfat latte or whenever I'd see a satisfied customer leaving with bright, sparkling eyes and a frenzied, caffeine-high expression on their faces.
I almost stuck my face into a bucket of espresso beans and then seriously considered brewing House Blend straight into my mouth. Instead, I begrudgingly sipped on a hot chocolate. Life sucks.
I suppose my point is this: Caffeine is probably ruining our lives, even if most of us aren't aware of it yet. Most of us don't care, actually. But the effects are truly terrible on the body. It causes unnatural, unnecessary highs that are difficult for our bodies to deal with. But the brilliance of a Quad Espresso con Panna is unparalleled when you have a paper for the next day and it's already 2 a.m. Maybe we can all worry about our deflated, ineffective cardiac systems when we're 40.
Fuck it. I think I'm going to go make some Red Bull popsicles. Who's with me?