I love coffee. In fact, I am infatuated with coffee. Yet, in the strange fashion that love usually works, I am not in love with coffee itself but the idea of coffee. I am in love with the culture of coffee, the embellishments associated with coffee, and the image of coffee linked to my own persona.
I don’t think any of what I am writing now is quite coherent because it is 3 in the morning. I’m not doing justice in articulating just how much the abstract concept of coffee means to me. Why do I love the idea of coffee so much?
It involves cafes — slow jazz music and brick walls and lighted decorations and big white cups with foaming lattes. I am obsessed with cafes, from the abundant pastries to over-priced saccharine coffee concoctions to people-watching. I love that I can meet people and engage in profound one-on-one conversations over coffee in a cafe, while on other days I can study in solace with a cup of coffee to energize and motivate me.
I didn’t realize until recently just how obsessed I am with cups. Large mugs, small espresso cups, clear glasses, wide bowls, simple white cups, to-go cups, cup sleeves…
This one is a no-brainer. Coffee keeps me going and revitalizes my mind.