Un Café, S'il Vous Plait.
When the caffeine-deficient go out at night, (and it’s imperative, they always will), they ought to bring a pack of what will water down the effects of having too much (a very subjective term these days). I like water, to start.
C8H10N4O2, something that chemically stands to our conscious selves, wake us up, and cognitively making us pay a solid amount of attention. This jolting substance, albeit in our central nervous systems, can remain active in the bloodstream for the next 4-5 hours after, whether it had been gulped down in 5 seconds flat, or slowly ingested with sips while typing a la laptop. I have on my 2016 version-of-a-rolodex efficiently mapped out all the emergency caffeine shops by train stop, take-away or sit down, wifi or non-wifi, & time-opened in the city of these watering holes called cafés - to create what is my survival guide to an oases of invariable wealth in knowledge of that precious arabica bean alchemy.
Without pulling a shot or two of espresso in the morning or whenever we feel nearing the brink of dysfunction, it is something we cling to very subtly to become a tad more functioning than the zombie we were a half-hour ago, that only had half a brain to actually get to where we needed to, and magically (and espressly) become a true master at gaining our own cognitive controls with every sip, commence the sensible organic pace and value ourselves more inflate-ably than the previously visible physical panic of withdrawal. It takes precisely two shots, and a whiff of bean-ground-extracting roasted goodness, to a bare daily living minimum to wage battle against life’s unbearable odds.
When this happens, we are glad to create a greater cast of ourselves, and mould our very sensibilities around the possible alternate life of not being caffeinated. It is impossible to think about, much less have a day without this very basic medium of conversation, and a most often stiffer harbinger of truth, than say the odd glass of wine. I say this now, because at this stage it is a necessity to be molecularly stable, and getting enough sleep, water and moderate healthy compounds in the form of food, will normally do it.
But also, I’ve reached a stage where the company of friends and on certain occasions, family (also a rather interchangeable thing, i found), is something that i would experience in the name of health all around. From the outfits and thoughtful messages, to being enabled, there is a serious contention to being alone, and a comfortable ability to decipher when you need to create a space for yourself, and when you can thrive with the company of other women, as well as the men whom you have found a keen connection to.
The dictates of any palpable conscience, to a higher social navigation isn’t that it should be compensatory - but commands that plain common sense be used in its consumption. A simple as and when you are thirsty, does not suffice. It requires an element of habit to its drinking, as well as necessity to its quantity, and quality of partaking. It reflects as much the drinker’s taste (a half-and-half health soy milk, versus purists who take it plain and black), as it does where it is taken (at a pub, the bistro after five courses of a meal tasting) as well as when (just first thing before the mail is opened & read in the morning). It can be as arbitrary as when we are in the area, have a meeting with old friends, or even so far as “there’s a new coffee shop around the corner, that’s not a diner”. Although in other circles, its revered consumption actually requires the full-fledged douse to your life-and-death cake brigade. (And no longer just consumed merrily for the holidays.)
Around the corner, we assess these products with the mundane thud of the assault of its ageing side-effects, to the capacity of our bodies, and adjust our intake accordingly - as we see fit to our own bodily functions. The flux of intake and outputs, should by now be in symphonic harmony to your intuitive accounts. But when we lose sight of what that is: because we put in all-hours, because we move quickly through life, because we live without knowing we need to put in the requisite amount of easing up on stress, your otherwise-very-healthy lifestyle tips the balance to a sense of panic - and know what is beyond normalcy in your life, and you know that (because you skipped the yoga or the reiki sessions) yes, you do pay for it afterwards.
And because by now, there’s a timing that you have attuned to quite like a metronome to interact veritably with all aspects of living a bearable life, you know when your senses are out of whack, and you become hateful, your friends find you un-nameable, your clothes are uncoordinated (and possibly unwashed for days), people start avoiding you, and not just a mildly distended aversion to your steady searching gaze. You have clocked out of the harmony within and it’s no longer just an overdose of caffeine that is making you lose sleep.
Well on those days, i drink wine.