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  • Wednesday, November 14, 2007


    Every morning, it’s the same argument. And every morning, my body bests my brain.

    It goes like this: alarm goes off, and my body cajoles my brain that ten more minutes of sleep – just ten more – would do wonders to help me feel more rested. And every morning, my brain falls for the con and allows the body to hit the snooze button once, twice more. Every morning. But, ya’ know, it never works. My body tells my brain a good tale – it’s very convincing that way -- but it actually knows the truth. Ten, twenty minutes makes no difference in my feeling rested. The only effect it has is to make me that much more rushed to get out on time.

    Stupid, gullible brain. Falls for it every morning.

    I remember when I was back in college, oh too many years ago, when I would get up in the morning, my roommate would say, “I can’t wait to go to sleep tonight.” I would nod in agreement, my body feeling the gravity of morning. I would drag myself up and out of bed, gingerly navigating to the bathroom. I could feel the sluggishness of just having woken up, the fog of my brain not quite firing on all cylinders. Almost like a drunken daze. But it felt like morning. Like being wrapped in a big, cozy, down comforter. Lazy and warm and snug. Sleep-inducing. A cocoon protecting me from the bracing chill of reality. Mornings used to feel exactly like that comforter, and I would float along, wrapped in the warmth of still-half-asleep, as I either slowly stirred and came to life or until was doused awake with reality -- usually in the form of the cold air outside.

    Mornings used to feel like that for me. The before noon hours of the day had that “it feels like morning” feel. Not-so-much anymore. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I still find it excruciatingly painful to get out of bed in the morning, but once I’m up, I no longer feel morning the way I used to. My body doesn’t have a sense of it being morning. As I walk from the metro to work, as far my body is concerned, it could be any time of day. I don’t feel like I’m slowly warming up to the day anymore; it’s more like a switch has flipped rather than a process. Now it’s: I’m up. I’m alert. It’s the day. Let’s go.

    I kinda miss feeling the morning and easing into the day. I don’t know why the start of the day feels different to me now. Perhaps it’s the almost 20 years since those college days. Perhaps it’s the coffee I now drink. Perhaps it’s having a job that requires my brain to be (mostly) on. I dunno.

    Every once in a while, usually on a Sunday, I get back a taste of that familiar feeling of morning. And I think that’s what makes the difference in whether or not it’s a restful weekend for me. Easing from sleep to awake and feeling morning, even if it’s not.


    But it’s not the same. And I miss feeling the morning when I wake up.

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