I woke up fairly early this morning. Something in the vicinites of 6AM, in fact. But I had trouble falling asleep last night (no major tossing & turning, but a little restless) and didn't feel all sparkly enough to get up at that god-forsaken hour. But I did get up a good three hours later, and here I am, still in my PJs (my uniform on Sundays) and with a giant mug of coffee. Mmmm... coffee~ How I love thee.

I adore coffee. It is one of my few addiction, and in fact, my only food addiction, except possibly wasabi, which I am currently still determining. I don't go into a massive withdrawl-mode when I don't have coffee, but I do notice that I am less intelligent, less motivated, less myself, without the blessed nectar of the gods. I love everything that has to do with coffee -- the caffeine, the darkness, the aroma, and the entire coffee family, featured on a menuboard at Starbucks. I love Starbucks. There was once a time when I lived solely for their mocha fraps and cappucino fraps and caramel macchiatos (hot and cold). I loved the whip cream and the cocoa powders. I could still taste the sweetness against the sides of my tongue, slowly numbing, as the frozen drink slides on through.

I became almost suddenly lactose intolerant last fall, in 2003, and since had to say my goodbyes to my blended beverages, which, by the way, I dealt with bravely. In the most courageous manner. No stomping, no brawling, no kicking and screaming. But saying goodbye to Starbucks was even harder. Starbucks. How I miss thee. Starbucks has other things besides blended drinks, although that is their major. They do have regular coffee, which is always burnt and much too bitter for my palate. I don't like burned charred meat -- how can I drink burnt coffee that's been sitting on the machine too long? Some of their tea bags I can tolerate, and thankfully they are a lot easier on the wallet (a little more than a buck for a large cup'o'tea). Until last winter, I ordered chamomile tea, and found cinnamon in the tea. It was outrageous, and not in the Britney kind of way either. Atrocious! How there they try to spice up a tea that's supposed to be calming and soothing?

That was the last time I had been inside a Starbucks. I will miss it though, because Starbucks is not just about the drinks -- it's about the atmosphere. They play jazz. They play Elvis Costello. The beverage machines running produces a soft, low hum, like the way my mom does when she cooks. They have the most comfortable chairs, and it is the best place to study. Being inside the house of caffeinated products just boost my production level to a superior level. And that is what I had to say goodbye to. So now I sit here at my desk at home, with a mug of Yuban, without vanilla or hazelnut syrup, without whipped cream, and without milk.

True, I could start getting myself into soy, but SOY? It feels like I'd be bypassing something of great importance to get iced blended beverages with soy instead of milk. I love tofu and soy, but soy milk is just something that makes me feel... inept. Powerless. Weak. There are times I'd risk being terribly ill on Sunday for 6oz of Yoplait. But I still refuse to associate myself with soy. No Soy!