Caffeine Detoxication (Day 1)

The time has come, folks. It's time to wean myself off of coffee (at least for a week or 2). I can't remember when I started drinking coffee. Junior year of high school? But it's definitely escalated in college. I absolutely love coffee. I truly believe that it is one of my favorite beverages. I drink it every day (pretty consistently for the last several years). I suppose my body deserves a break.

I know, I know. It should be easy, right? Coffee is bad for me. I should just stop drinking it. Well, friends... let's just say...

Well...

Here's Day 1:

[Disclaimer: it is not pretty, so reader beware.]

DAY 1 (April 2nd, 2009):

8:30 AM: Upon awakening, I decided that today was the day. No coffee for me. I then proceeded to lay in bed for the next hour, feeling bad for myself and dreading the consequences.

10:15 AM: I am driving to school, and I feel fine, for now. Blasting T.I. on the radio seems to help keep my mind off it.

12:30 PM: My first class is finished, and I walk out of it surprised that I still feel OK!

1:00 PM: Uh-oh. I feel a slight headache coming on. But overall, I am just tired. I decide to push myself to the max. I walk into Starbucks.... and sit down on one of the comfy leather chairs. I study there for an hour without daring to look over at the counter.

1:45 PM: I haven't eaten breakfast... or lunch. But I have no appetite for anything except coffee. I cannot think of a single food that I want to ingest. Moreover, just the thought of eating makes me nauseous. I decide to go straight to class instead.

3:00 PM: I am in class, and the professor is talking about the Chaco Canyons of New Mexico. I cannot process the information being given. I cannot focus. I start to wonder if this whole coffee strike is worth it.

5:30 PM: I am on the way home. I still have not eaten. About 2 hours ago, my slight headache exploded into a full-on migraine (light-sensitive, sound-sensitive, strong nausea). I decide to forgo my planned mall trip and head straight home.

5:50 PM: I am still in Brookline, because the traffic absolutely sucks. I am irritable and upset and ready to vomit on whoever next gets on my nerves. I think to myself that maybe I'm just dehydrated. I take a sip of Poland Spring water, but my body revolts. I gag repeatedly, but luckily, there was nothing for me to actually throw up.

5:55 PM: I cannot drive. My head feels like it's going to explode. I glance in the mirror, and I think I can actually see it pounding. Gross. I pull over to CVS and rush inside.

6:05 PM: I am still standing in line, desperately clutching a vial of Excedrin Extra Strength. Each tablet contains 250 mg of Acetaminophen, 250 mg of Aspirin, and 65 mg of Caffeine. (Yes, I know, Caffeine... but hey, I gotta start somewhere. At least I'm not chugging coffee, right?).

6:10 PM: I really just want to pay for my drugs. But the man in front of me is trying to buy cigarettes. (Do you have any Newport lights? Yes sir. Are they on sale? ...No. Do you have any sales on cigarettes? No sir. What do you have for lighters?) And the woman behind me has 2 small daughters who are loudly whining and shrieking for their mother to buy them everything in the store (gummy bears, a lollipop, a disposable camera, etc). In my head, I envision them as the screaming mandrakes from Harry Potter.

6:12 PM: I am safely back in my car, and I throw 2 tablets back with a sip of water. After reading the dosage instructions, I realize that I am supposed to drink "a full glass of water with each dose". I struggle to hold down a few more sips. I wonder (for the 100th time of the day) if this is all really worth it.

6:25 PM: I am doing 60 on Rt. 9 West, and I don't care.

6:35 PM: I call my mother to ask her to make me noodle soup. Before I can say anything, she proudly exclaims that she has tried a new recipe for Cacciatore. I am gagging at the thought of real food.

6:50 PM: I finally arrive home. It wasn't cacciatore, it was guacamole. And quesadillas. (Darned foreign food names, says my mom.) She heats up some soup for me instead.

7:00 PM: I officially have not eaten for 24 hours. I've had only water, so the warm soup in front of me is making me drool. A few small sips quickly turn into big gulps. Not a good idea.

7:01 PM: I am in the bathroom, throwing up all the liquid I've ingested in the past few hours. I silently say a bad word.

7:30 PM: I think the medicine (and low dose of caffeine) finally kicked in. I am more jovial (just ask my mom) and I can eat noodles (in broth)! I even eat a small dessert (6 large, red grapes). I pump my fist in victory. Well, not really. But I felt like it.

11:00 PM: I settle into bed, hoping that I can sleep early and for a good amount of time. I am dreading Day 2.

this can't be good.

"A person who loses one night’s sleep will generally be irritable and clumsy during the next day and will either become tired easily or speed up because of adrenalin. After missing two night’s sleep, a person will have problems concentrating and will begin to make mistakes on normal tasks. Three missed nights and a person will start to hallucinate and lose grasp of reality."

uh oh.

of children and calamity.

I love children. I can't wait to have some of my own. It'll be fun in a lot of ways. I'll get to feed them, dress them (yeuhhh!!!), and play with them. Oh! And I'll get to sing them lullabies and watch them sleep peacefully... right?

So there I was, humming a lullaby to myself. Perhaps one of the most famous known in the English language. You all know how it goes.

Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop,

When the wind blows, the cradle will rock,

When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,

And down will come baby, cradle and all.

And it suddenly hit me how horrible this song is. I don't know why I never noticed it until now. The howling wind... the breaking branch...the falling baby. eek!

I started to wonder how this disturbing little ditty (that wormed its way into the hearts of so many [loving?] parents) came to be. Ah, trusty Wikipedia. Enjoy these excerpts:

The nursery rhyme suggests a falling, apparently related to a terrible accident in 1706 where the Earl of Sandwich's son was tossed without warning from his cradle. The cradle was later found in the Thames River empty and alone.

Don't like that explanation? Too depressing? Try this one on for size:

Yet another theory has it that the song... refers to events immediately preceding the Glorious Revolution. The baby is supposed to be the son of King James II of England, who was widely believed to be someone else's child smuggled into the birthing room in order to provide a Catholic heir for James. The "wind" may be that political "wind" or force "blowing" or coming from the Netherlands bringing James' nephew and son-in-law, William III of England, a.k.a. William of Orange, who would eventually depose King James II in the revolution. The "cradle" is the House of Stuart Stuart monarchy.

Um... boooringgg. and kooky. I prefer the drowning baby.

factory worker.

Over the past few days, I've spent hours upon hours doing one thing -- making friendship bracelets. Yes, the bracelets we used to make at summer camps and in our grade school years. Why have I been doing such a thing? Am I desperate for more friends? Well...

No.

I just really enjoy repetitive and menial tasks/motions. That's why my new theory is that I'm wasting my money on earning this degree from the fine establishment of Boston University. I should've just gotten a job in an assembly line. I bet I'd enjoy it just as much.

In other related news, I made my first sock monkey today. It took 6+ hours, but it is a total CUTIE <3 and it involved a lot of repetitive and tedious steps (sewing, cutting, stuffing). My cup of tea :)
---

p.s. Anyone want a friendship bracelet?* Since I'm kinda on a roll, I might have enough to give away soon. Please specify color preferences.

*Production not necessarily guaranteed, but you can be hopeful.

I'm aliiiive.

Well, it's been over a month since you've heard from me. I've been meaning to blog (really, I have), but... [insert excuses here].

I am a person who loves structure. Remember my themed weekly posts? Those are no more. Too limiting, I find. I've been asked countless times when Walleteer Wednesday will make its grand comeback. Perhaps one day in the future. But for now, I will resort to writing whatever craziness enters my mind.

Starting tomorrow.

thus ends the first 2 decades of my life.

the days of my youth cease to exist.

it's over.

the good old days are now but a dream.

i'm on the decline.

capitonyms.

It's been a while, faithful readers. A long while.

Amidst the craziness of Christmas shopping, studying for exams, working, and playing Dynasty Warriors on PS2 (yeah, you read that right), I have found time to update you on an important discovery that I have made.

I learned a new word today.

Did you know that, in addition to synonyms and antonyms, there are.. capitonyms?

capitonym: a word that changes its meaning (and sometimes pronunciation) when it is capitalized.

Yeah, I know. Whaaat?!

Some examples:

Nice (in France) and nice (pleasant)
Polish (from Poland) and polish (to make a surface shine)
March (the month) and march (to walk to a rhythm)
Job (from the Bible) and job (an occupation)

Awesome, isn't it?