Random Buzz
- Wade
One of my favorite bands is The Rank Strangers. You've probably never heard of them, which is strange for me in that I'm normally not very alternative when it comes to music. Give me Counting Crows, Better Than Ezra, Toad the Wet Sprocket, maybe toss in a side of Sheryl Crow and I'm happy. I'm mainstream to a fault, and that strikes me as odd because I don't really care for Cities 97.
But I digress.
One of the Strangers' songs is called, simply, "Caffeine, Alcohol, Sleep." Back in my single days, that troika represented how I spent, and got through, most of my days. Upper, downer, reset. Repeat. I tended to be both broke and bleary-eyed, but what person isn't in their early 20s?
Why, oh why, are you again taking me down memory lane, you ask yourself. Well, I'm on my way to kicking one-third of my former lifeblood-- specifically, caffeine. As referenced in a recent forum posting, I'm now at approximately two cups a day, down from what ranged from six to twelve cups. I won't think I can ever completely leave my best brewed friend, it's become almost a morning comfort food. But after that initial serving I switch to hot water, and ride out the rest of my day caffeine-free.
I never thought I had a real caffeine addiction, because I never felt that "buzz" that people talk about. Then I cut down. And the headaches started. For almost two weeks I had a pervasive, all-day headache that Advil couldn't touch. I went to the doctor, but there wasn't anything wrong-- save for the lack of caffeine in my system. That was pretty scary. Then I read this and realized I missed out on taking a few days off of work because of my affliction. Dammit.
And so it strikes me funny, now, that I'm getting to the age where I'm shedding habits for health reasons that were once integral parts of my life. I guess I started a while ago-- gradually decreasing nights spent out carousing, decreasing the amount of nachos eaten, decreasing the amount of bourbon whiskey consumed per week. But slowing down on coffee hit me funny, because that's something that old people do.
Am I at that point? When high-schoolers walk past me each day as I wait for my bus, how do they classify me? Old? I'm only.. what.. five years older than them? No more than that. Ten? No shit? When Sara and I started dating five years ago, she had a picture of me on her desk. When one of her eighth-graders saw it, she confided in Sara that I was "pretty cute... for an old dude."
Thanks. I think.
Off for a refill of steaming hot water.
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