(no subject)
I've gotten back in NPR pretty heavily. I used to listen to it pretty consistently on car rides, especially when I was making the trek between Bel Air and Germantown almost weekly, but ever since I came to school, well... I've been a little carless.
But I stumbled across a few podcasts a week or two ago, and I've been listening to it daily since. I find myself waiting for the Sunday Puzzle on WESun with more anticipation than the next episode of "Lost." Unfortunately, listening to Morning Edition on podcast reminds me of a pitiable aspect of my days: They have no mornings.
Yes, I'm quite happy that I rarely need to be out of bed before 10:45, and in fact noon most days of the week. Waking up at 6:30 in the morning every day for high school was a pain in the ass, and I don't miss those days at all. But those days on which I endure endure an insufferable insomnia provide an insight to another world. A world where I'm actually awake-fully awake-in the morning.
I remember first experiencing it some four years ago when, after hours of tossing and turning restlessly under my sheets, I gave in. The clock by my bed blinked 5:30. I sat up, and with barely any thought, I put on my shorts and laced up my shoes, sneaking out the basement door to avoid waking anyone else. I was met by a brisk air and the wetness of the grass from the cool morning dew, but my soles soon met concrete, and I was on a run through an unfamiliar world.
As the darkness in which I had begun my workout melted away to a soft glow that was the prelude to dawn, I drank the thick morning air as my shoes collided with the sidewalk. I watched as the light from the lampposts lining my path dimmed to the symphony of daybreak. I counted in a comparison of cars to bunnies (2 to 5), and though I knew that before long, these streets would become congested with commuter traffic, I sensed that the asphalt was at this hour mine alone... that I was treading through an unexplored world that I was claiming for myself. Returning to my home after just a few miles I was filled with a sense of accomplishment. I rewarded myself with a bowl of Cheerios and showered off quickly before hopping back in bed and finally finding sleep.
What a beautiful dreamland I had encountered. Are there really people who wake up to experience that every day? Such a wondrous experience!
Since then, I've familiarized myself with many more mornings, whether when necessity required an early departure or some unforeseen factor simply would not let me sleep. And all in all, when my mornings aren't hurried-when I make a conscience effort to take them in-I enjoy them. They make me feel more whole. Oh, to be a morning person!
But alas, the Fates have given me instead the night, and as I creep my way through these wee hours, I set myself up for a failed morning. I feel like it's not the way we were meant to live... that it provides the path to a pointless existence. Even a drunkard like Hemingway could pull his ass out of bed early in the morning to sit at his typewriter until noon. And with a motto like, "Done by noon, drunk by three," how can you go wrong, really?
Anyway, I hope that when I'm older I will make a more conscious effort at consciousness in the A.M. hours so that I can spend my mornings over a cup of tea, a bowl of cereal, and Morning Edition.
And being done by noon wouldn't hurt, either.