BARISTA: What can I get for you today?
ME: Iced grande skinny vanilla latte, please.
BARISTA: Oh right, you’re that girl who comes in here every morning, updating her blog and such. What’s your name again… Liz?
ME: (awkward pause) Sure, my name is Liz.
When your parents give you a name that few people can pronounce, let alone spell, you are forced to resort to drastic measures when ordering your daily dose of caffeine. Hence, I take on a variety of pseudonyms in Starbucks each morning, including the ever popular “Liz.” While this has caused me quite a bit of trouble with a fellow customer named Lisette, I truly believe that it is worth the price of a potential cat fight with a 40 year old dyed-blonde obsessing over her clearly gay co-worker, Eric.
I say all this as an introduction to the purpose of this blog. After three years in a quaint New England liberal arts college and one year in a magical city known as Oxford, I returned to the Empire State to live out my ADA Cabot dreams. Within a few years, though, I decided to switch gears and pursue the international journalism career I had never dreamed possible. Follow me through the 5000 worded madness.
However, keep in mind the defining feature of all these entries: the location in which they will be written and posted. As a profound lover of caffeine, I will frequent a coffee haven each time I update my cyber-audience on developments in my life. There may be a recession, and I may be earning only slightly above minimum wage, but an addiction is an addiction. And one cannot put a price tag on my true source of happiness.