Cafe Nervosa with Lindsay Lohan

Im a man of a lot of vices. Most of them I could quit given any inkling of motivation; I can go for weeks without a drink, and smoking is really little more than a social exercise nowadays. Indeed, If it weren't for the weekly "staff meeting" at the Goat and Tricycle, I could probably pass on both of these habits quite easily.

That said, the one thing that I can never see myself cutting down on is the warming, life-affirming beverage that is pure, liquid lava. Coffee. Not your fancy frappuccinos or metrosexual mochas, I'm talking straight-up caffeine-dosed Colombian goodness.

I started drinking coffee at far too young an age to really be acceptable; during lunch breaks at school I would wander into town and pick up a double-shot americano from the local Costas (long before Durham was inevitably invaded by its evil American cousin Mr. Starbuck). Wandering back to class with a lidded paper cup in hand gave me a delightful sense of grown-up-ness and made me feel far more cultured than my classmates. Dear god I was a pretentious child. Not that that has changed all that much...

Of course, starting on caffeine at such an early age probably goes a long way to explain my ridiculously rapid heart rate... Hindsight's wonderful ain't it?

The reason I find myself concerned one, however is not the careening pulse, nor the fact that I cannot begin the day without at least two mugs of joe, but that my students have now come to see my mug as a permanent part of my anatomy. Whenever I'm in class and without a cuppa, at least one student will undoubtedly question the whereabouts of my coffee. If it's not with me, a wave of worried looks will wash across the room, followed by inquiries as to my well being.

I mean, it's nice to have students notice your quirks, and believe me, I have an abundance of them, but I'm beginning to wonder whether my dependence on the stuff is starting to be too big a part of who I am. Even now, as I write this entry at 10pm, I have a steaming mug next to me. It no longer affects my sleep, nor my moods, it's just a security blanket of which I'm afraid to let go.

Maybe my nervous disposition and general sleepiness can be traced back to all the caffeine, but you know what? I genuinely don't care. It's delicious, it's reassuring, and at the end of the day, there are worse things to be addicted to. I mean, at least it's not crack.

'Cause that always ends well, doesn't it Lindsay...