April 24, 2013 by ebostick1212
It doesn’t surprise me that I am sitting in a café right now, writing this. It seems to me that most my inspiration comes while I am sitting in a bustling hole in the wall, staring into a glass of milky liquid.
I’ve never really had any vices. I’ve never been a big drinker, apart from the odd glass of wine with dinner, and after seeing many people struggle to quit, I vowed never to try cigarettes. And yet, the long ebony claws of coffee addiction seemed to have grasped at me.
I didn’t even like coffee until a couple of years ago, when I moved to France and started a steady diet of noisettes, espresso with a touch of milk. Even then, I was able to stop, and switched back to the lesser evil–tea, when I moved back to England.
The beast awaited me as I moved to Spain, where a morning espresso is the norm. I quickly fell back into my old caffeine fueled ways. With everyone crowding around the coffee machine at recess, and free time between private lessons, I often find myself sidling up to a scalding cup of café con leche. Sometimes three times a day. And this isn’t the watery American stuff…this is the good stuff that gives you the jitters after one cup.
As an already nervous personality-type, I am aware that this is probably not a healthy decision, and so I find myself trying to cut back. I order a leche manchada, more milk, less espresso, but I can’t stop, I get withdrawal headaches. I have to tell myself that it isn’t cutting back if I double the amount of manchadas I drink. It is like I’ll be injecting it into my veins, soon.
While I guess there are worst things to be addicted to, I still shudder to think how much money I’ve spent on coffee this year. 50 cents there, one euro here, but it all adds up. Rather, I stare pensively into my empty cup and tell myself that this caffeine is a good thing, it will get me through a long day with the kids, and then private classes.
I say that until I lie in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, cursing the fact that I drank three cups of liquid nervousness. I toss and I turn, and when the first rays of sunlight wake me in morning, I pry one eye open and think ‘God I need a cup of coffee…’.
It is a vicious cycle, and one that I probably won’t be escaping soon, considering the full work days ahead of me. But hey, at least I’m not drinking Starbucks.*
*This is a lie. I do drink Starbucks.