Early this morning I had this misguided attempt to prepare my own coffee. As I have mentioned in previous posts my day wouldn’t be complete without the said beverage, and whenever I’m deprived of the substance I freak out. I know I’m a freak to begin with, and I don’t need somebody to assert that point, but I’m in this weird state okay? A while ago it’s a bit different. No one made coffee for me (and the rest of the human population inside our house), but for some reason or so I didn’t go ballistic. Weird, but I was there.
And so I went straight to the cupboard to make coffee, but for one thing: I have got no master’s degree, not even an undergraduate diploma, for coffee making. I have no problem with self confidence and I take pride in saying that I’m an expert – and a fine one to talk to – when coffee is concerned, but the catch is that I don’t know how to make it, not even for myself. I usually rely on someone for my caffeine fix; all I know is to swig and consume vast amounts of coffee. Anyway, there I was, staring blankly onto the canisters inside the cupboard, figuring out the shit I have to undergo. I remembered having observed my mom preparing coffee for me when I visited her at her office. She ceremoniously took one teaspoon of the brown-black substance, one teaspoon of creamer, and two blocks of sugar. Then she proceeded to yank the thermos plunger for hot water, mixed the concoction vigorously, and coffee was served. I took a sip and chimes began ringing inside my head. The coffee my mom made for me was so great I tried to make one for myself. I had made wrong decisions and had done stupid things in my life, and this was far much worse than anything else. Instead of chimes and bells, I heard rumbling noises like a stampede of animals in that movie Jumanji. Instead of going straight to my gullet, I bid farewell to the coffee I’ve made and watched it swirl down the sink.
I have strayed from my original topic which is my intoxication from coffee. So I was in front of the cupboard then. I tried to imitate what my mom did. I tried anyway, and the results were unbelievable. I just have to believe in myself that I could accomplish such a daunting task. And because I was amazed with my hidden talent, I went to grab a mug as large as a pitcher and proceeded to fill it halfway with the mixture, employing mathematical procedures in the process, involving the use of proportions and some lessons on physics. For a 500-ml mug, put at least two and a half teaspoonful of coffee (Nescafe Gold is much preferred), two teaspoons of creamer, and five to six sugar blocks (since we don’t have the loose variety). I finished everything, but of course not in just one sipping or I’ll drown. Then after 15 minutes or so, I started to feel unusually below par.
It is said that people should consume more or less than three to four cups of coffee a day. I’m not good in approximation, but I’ve guzzled around half a liter of coffee. Caffeine is supposed to alleviate the alertness level of a person and to relieve headaches and is a great help whenever one had a terrible hangover from last night’s drinking session. But large amounts might lead to a much more terrible not to mention annoying headache and digestive tract problems, plus extreme nervousness and loss of sleep. In my case, it’s quite different. You know the feeling of paranoia, as if somebody’s watching over your back like some driveling maniac is about to launch and stab you with a Japanese cleaver? The feeling of uneasiness? The strange panic-stricken feeling accompanied by palpitations and shortness of breath? Put yourself in those situations and you are me. I’m not kidding. I tried to lie down on my bed but it got worse – I feel like I’m going to drown in a waterless surrounding. As if I’ve taken marijuana or something, although I haven’t actually tried sniveling marijuana; my Christian Living teacher told me so when you’re under the influence of hemp.
I’ve already experienced this beforehand. Since I basically got nothing to do I went to Starbucks with friends at the Town. They had Grande Mocha Frappuccinos (I don’t know what’s with Mocha Frap that most people regard it as their ultimate favorite, quote-unquote), and I had a Venti Java Chip. And because man is naturally insatiable we got another serving of the same sizes. After we made rounds inside the mall – and since funds were already running low – I dragged them to have pearl shakes at Zagu, regular caffe latte (We are not a bunch of coffee addicts). By the time I got home, I started to feel the same thing as stated in the previous paragraph. It was so horrifying, and the feeling was awful. But after an hour or so it subsided instantly as if I was just making excuses not to help in house chores, ha ha.
I don’t know if I’m the only one who gets to experience such a horrendous – but exciting, what can I say – moment with coffee. I get to come across in this state quite rarely, so maybe I could do it again tomorrow.