Zen and the Art of the Coffee Break(fast)

(A follow-up to aneta's story here.)

I wasn't fond of coffee in my early years; my mouth found it bitter, my nostrils acrid. By the end of high school I had only had two or three cups, and that out of courtesy, from the hands of people who liked coffee so much that it hadn't occurred to them that I might not.

During my military service I gave it another go (in hours of hardship, as in ‘since everything is against me, I'll do something against myself as well’). I discovered that I didn't hate it so much, but neither did I love it. In my first two years of college I drank coffee willingly, but not regularly. It was the natural thing to do in some situations; I did not, however, depend on it for staying awake (I seldom stayed up that late, anyway, and when I did I usually could sleep late in the morning).

Then I went to the States, and things changed. ( Read more... )

The moral of the story is: The less you know, the better you sleep wake!