CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
PART ONE:
I haven't had any coffee for five days.
I've had some caffeine, admittedly, but not a lot. Basically a can of Diet Pepsi at lunchtime and that's been it. It's been in a vain*1 bid to improve the condition of my skin. It's not like I'm The Singing Detective or anything, but as I've previously noticed, it's caffeine that gives me spots etc, despite being in my late thirties. As I've also previously noticed, caffeine is quite difficult to give up if you use it to be 'on fire' at work*2. I enjoy being on fire at work, as it makes other people in the office look a bit shit by comparison.
So, as coincidence would have it, my jar of Douwe Egberts ran out last Friday, and I thought I'd give a caffeine-free environment a go. I can't drink that shit from the machine in the canteen, largely because it's not coffee*3, so there'd be no temptation to get pumped on a slow morning. So in place of the coffee? Water. That's got to do me some good, right? I mean sure, I'll be at the toilet every twenty minutes *4, but that's the H2O doing its thing. It's all good, yeah?
Yeah?
Apparently not. After five days of drinking a moderate to large amount of water, I'm far more intimately acquainted with the office-toilets, and I have the skin-tone of a fucking fourteen year old. It's actually worse than it was last weekend. The lack of supplementary energy has also resulted in me spending Monday to Wednesday having the reaction-time and general sluggishness of a teenager, too. There's only one thing for it. Abstinence can fuck right off.
In the same situation as before, I found myself at St. Pancras International, with twenty five minutes to kill before my train. It had been a long day so far, and I'd already come to the conclusion that the lack of caffeine was doing me no good. Now would be a good time to break this ridiculous charade. Looking at the Departures board, I could see the faux-quaint, ethically conscious Sourced beneath, with three or four people queued up (a slight number given the busy rush hour people-traffic). Behind me, the multinational behemoth that is Starbucks, with a queue of folks snaking back and outside their premises. Which one should I go for?
Well, remembering how long it took me to get served last time, I went to Starbucks. It was pretty much exactly how I like my retail transactions to be. I give them money, they give me stuff, no-one gives each other shit. Lovely. £2.40 has got me a Fucking Massive*5 Americano with an extra shot, and I can't tell which is going faster: this train, or my brain. Parts of my psyche are waking up like Ash at the end of Army of Darkness, and wondering exactly how long I've been asleep.
You remember that bit in 1978's Superman where he's discovering his powers and ends up running alongside that train? That'll be me when I get this finished, mind.
You can tell I'm back on the coffee, I've made three screen-references in one blogpost. This week's Star Wars A-Z post will be up on Sunday or Monday, by the way. I've got to put together a video for it, and between having a busy week and no fucking energy, I haven't been able to get round to it. Sorry, like. Although I doubt you were on the edge of your seat for it anyway ;)
Going to go and read comics, now. Ciao.
*1 vain, in every sense of the word, apparently. *2 Not literally "on fire". Obviously. *3 It's brown, hot and comes out of a coffee machine. The similarity ends there. *4 And I was. Every twenty bastard minutes. *5 That's right, fact-fans. 'Venti' is Italian for 'Fucking massive'.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
I'm currently drinking coffee out of a plain white cardboard cup, with a plain black plastic lid, and a plain brown cardboard holder. Which is to say, I'm not advertising for the man.
( ^^ Not my picture. Click on it to see the source page ^^)
This is because of a choice I made around twenty minutes ago (although sticking it to the man wasn't on my agenda). Awake way too early for a Saturday and at London St. Pancras, I was trying to decide where to get a coffee. I've got a half-full Caffe Nero loyalty card on me, but I couldn't see one of those. The choices within my line of sight were a) Starbucks, and b) Sourced.
The former is a multi-national corporation that a lot of people seem to take issue with. Although to be fair, there have to be more people that don't take issue with them, otherwise they wouldn't have such a profitable business. I frequently hear people grumbling about the mega-corp, although I never seem to catch what's so bad about them. There aren't babies in their coffee, are there? They don't, like, get orphans to pick the beans or some such thing? I'm not being facetious (well…), I honestly don't know what the deal is. As much as I love coffee, I'm certainly no expert, and as chance would have it, I've never been to Starbucks. There's no agenda behind that, it's just the way things have played out. Anyway, I've still never been there. I went for the other option.
This was a deli/bakery/coffee shop called Sourced. A delightful mishmash of ethically sourced and fair-trade goods, with a (no doubt carefully constructed) rustic layout to the open store to give it that continental-market feel. The young lady that served me was very polite and quite cheery (in fact, cheery to the point that when she spoke to other staff members in her regular voice, you're left in no doubt as to how false the cheeriness was). The coffee wasn't too badly priced for central London, and tastes pretty good. I wouldn't call it large, though. Even though I could see it was the biggest of the cup sizes they hold. And while I don't expect the guy actually making the coffee to do so with a skip and a whistle, it'd be nice if he put a bit of effort into it. It seems to have escaped his attention that the establishment he works for is in a train station. His customers, generally, are on their way somewhere. They haven't casually strolled into St Pancras station for a leisurely coffee, and to see his disinterested face…
Anyway, this business of Evil Corporation vs Ethical Co-Operative wasn't what made me choose David over Goliath. The queue was shorter. I think I fucking know why, now. Had Sourced been the only option, you wouldn't be reading this blog entry. But, as so often in life, it's the things we don't do that we end up regretting.
My need for frightening amounts of caffeine outweighs any liberal sensibilities I may have. At least the people working in Starbucks realise they're there to make coffee. They don't have to like it, they just have to get on and grind the beans to wake me up. The next time I'm faced with the choice (and barring the presence of a Caffe Nero), I'll give Starbucks a go. Then you'll probably be reading me moaning about how they managed to muff up a large white Americano with an extra shot.
Damn, I've finished my coffee. See? I told you this would happen.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
CAUTION: Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
"Week 10" or "Spot The Difference"...
Woah-oh, we're two thirds of the way there, Woah-oh, living on no be-er. Jon Bon Jovi, Livin' on a Prayer, first draft, 1984.
The end of ten weeks without booze (well, almost. Y'know...), and a revelation seems to have hit me. No, it's not that "better man" shite I was worried was going to happen, I'm still as annoyed with the world as ever, and I still want a pint.
It wasn't the beer at all!
Remember back at the start of this when I said that hopefully a hundred days without alcohol would, amongst other things, clear my skin up a little? It became apparent at around week three that it wasn't going to happen. Not acne, just spots. The condition of my skin was as irrational as ever. As irrational as say... my caffeine intake?
It varies from day to day, but rarely a day goes by without caffeine of some description (read: Coffee in the mornings, Diet Coke/Pepsi in the evenings). I find I'm pretty much "on fire" after three coffees, which is helpful for work.
So, it occurred to me after a series of mornings waking up with a face like a 14yr old, that I had been drinkng a lot of coffee recently. Not as a replacement for alcohol, just because I like coffee. So I figured I'd try cutting the caffeine over the last week. And it seems to have worked. Not perfect, but a hell of a lot better, certainly.
It wasn't the beer at all! It was the coffee!
I've had no noticable withdrawal sypmtoms. Although I'm fairly irritable at work anyway, coffee or not :P Haven't had any headaches either. It's not like I was drinking 20 cups of coffee a day, but combined with the Diet Coke it was probably bordering on "too much".
Of course, I'm constantly tired now. Especially from when I wake up until around 1pm. And I don't seem to be sleeping any better for it. My better half will attest to me having strange dreams and shouting in the night a couple of times this week. So if that's not the coffee, and not the beer, and I don't do gaming in the evening at the moment... who fucking knows? We'll solve that problem when we get to it.
It also doesn't solve the problem of "I like coffee". I may have to trial a safe level, which could take a while.
+++++
I will, of course, finish the run of 100 days off the booze. A clearer complexion wasn't all I was looking for, although I'm going to have to work out more. I seem to be a little slimmer, but haven't lost any weight. Explain that.
I've just calculated that I'm 66 days into the hundred as I write this, which is pretty cool. Take two of those out as gratis days, and add another one on, and I've got 37 days to go. Sweet.
I'm off now to drink some water. Whoopee.
DISCLAIMERS: • ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organizations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
