I Want Coffee

So, I'm sitting at Espresso. The one out here on Duncan and Windsor. Love it. Quiet, spacious, a lot of wood.

Well, I made it. I love coffee now. I'm not sure how I should feel about this though. On the one hand, I should be super-excited. After quite some time of hating the drink, but loving everything about it (the smell, the cups, the coffee-house atmosphere -- the Indy music, experimental art, soft lighting, the seemingly-justified-arrogance of those both behind the counter and in front), I committed to liking the drink itself. It took a while before it was more than just self-imposed-peer-pressure. But I did it. I love it. I crave it.

Which leads me to my other hand (what? I don't know; go with it). Addiction. So, this is something that I generally try to stay away from ... unless it somehow involves being addicted to church, or loving, or God, or some other nice-Christian-girl answer. Addiction. This is precisely the reason that I almost never take any medicine of any sort -- not wanting to be dependent. Or maybe my snobbery to addiction is just my way of being spontaneous, rebellious, a free spirit unconfined by beverage.

Which is another puzzlement -- if you can make yourself love something, can you make yourself unlove something? ah, but maybe I'm digressing to other parts of my life ....

Mmmmmmmmm.

Conclusions:

1. Yea for reaching a goal.
2. It's okay to crave things.
3. I'm not ready to start toting a mug to work every morning, even though I want to.
4. Maybe I could just like coffee without trying to analyze it. (sad. I really miss doing deep textual analysis in my undergrad English-major classes ... sigh)