Coffee in the tank, et al

I don't usually do this; and I think I am getting myself in trouble by mentioning it.

Now that I have your attention, picture this in your mind:

Your late night is now an early morning. There's a cup of coffee sitting in the microwave oven that you left there yesterday afternoon. You rewarm it and eat a very small breakfast as dawn is slowly pushing back the silver glow of a moonlit night, turning it instead to a grey foggy soup which could very well be an allegory for your current mental state.

The coffee is down, but so still are you. You are only up at this hour because you supposedly prefer to add a morning freshness to one of your study blocks. (hmmmm...) Now you are driving to a halfway location between home and classes--it just happens to be Starbucks. Now you are there, but you are still feeling less then "morning fresh," so another coffee is in order. You then stumble through some text before heading to campus.

You finish your first class...

You now feel a little more "alive." Reaction time has doubled for normal physical movement. There is a spring in your step. It has become a simply charming morning! You contemplate your classes; what a nice combination they make! They seem to be very complimentary. Life is good! Who ever said fog was dreary really needs some coffee in the tank!

You start more reading...

You notice a little difficulty in keeping yourself still! That doubled reaction time is a bit more pronounced--or at least evolved into a bit of a nuisance. You begin to wonder if relaxation and coffee are antonyms; perhaps a little extra food to go with it might have been a good idea. Morning fresh is now starting to feel a bit like nervous twitch. Well, you think, what could be wrong? You're hungry of course. Perhaps your block of time for reading is about up. It's almost 11 a.m. and what a good time for lunch!

You are eating now...

The room is crowded. You attempt to play a careless part in the room's mixed bag of sociable, studious or just hungry students. Why is it so hard to do this? The line of travel taken by the chip in your hand to your mouth seems a bit more like a butterfly's. Half of the brown, non-sticky rice on your fork jumps off as if it was popping in a frypan. It will soon be over, you say. Until then, you had better act as unconcerned as possible--your knees will stop knocking soon enough.

You are headed for another class now...

It will be just a short walk; but the legs are working anyway. The stomach is a little less aggravated and the heart rate has slowed--at least you tell yourself that it has. There's Walt Whitman to discuss in class. Last time you discussed Walt Whitman, it was in a class notorious in your mind for the amount of sleep it provided you.

This class will be different; or at least today will.