“The lifeblood of champions”

It’s 1:26 a.m. on a rainy and dreary Wednesday morning here in Ithaca, N.Y. and my brain feels like it’s running at maximum speed on a treadmill set on the highest possible incline.

Why, you ask? One word: finals.

That dreaded, how-the-heck-will-I-ever-get-through-this week of pure, unadulterated torture that is defined by sweatpants, a general disregard for personal hygiene, abnormally baggy eyes and, of course, lots and LOTS of caffeine. Truckloads.

Don’t let the cutesy-wutseyness fool you.

Coffee, the complex beverage that is simultaneously the bane of my existence and my savior, is a known staple of college students, particularly during “Hell Week,” when they need that extra kick to give them the incentive to go on when all hope seems lost. (Too dramatic? It’s finals week, expect nothing less).

However, for those of us spendthrift students who have reached the end of our bonus bucks — or whatever the equivalent is of ID card money for other colleges — affording even a simple cup of the golden drink can be a challenge. For many students (or maybe just me) one cup is just not enough to keep energy levels high enough to function throughout the day as a semi-normal human being. I find that three is often the lucky unlucky number I reach daily, an intake I cannot say I am particularly proud of. There is a whole laundry list of negative health effects associated with too much caffeine consumption, but I just can’t seem to make it successfully through a day without the stuff.

So. I will openly admit it, right here on my blog, for millions thousands hundreds a few people to see that I, Erica Lynn Palumbo, am a caffeine addict. Heck, at this point I’ll go so far as to say it probably runs through my veins.

Am I happy I have this crutch? My current caffeine-induced headache and chronic insomnia scream no. Will I ever switch to healthier, more sensible alternatives, like green tea or refreshing lemon water for that extra daily boost? All signs point toward “highly unlikely.”

I know that my love-hate relationship with java will endure, though I have hopes — albeit idealistic ones — that I will slowly become more independent, and cut down on my romps with good ol’ Joe to no more than once a day.

It is now 2:17 a.m., fellow caffeine fiends, and I’m still sippin’. With that, I’ll leave you with some wise words from Mike Ditka.

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