Unlike most people of whom I have had the pleasure to make their acquaintance, mornings are my favorite time of day.
For as long as I can remember, I have always been a morning person. Morning for me is the time when my brain goes on involuntary overdrive and my heart begins to pump its blood at a dangerous breakneck speed. I am always amazed that people can sleep past 7am be it a holiday or weekend. What could they possibly be dreaming up or about? Perhaps they could share the secret that will finally rid me of my insomnia?
Back in campus I had a friend who could not be caught dead awake before noon regardless of the day, class or a sadistic professor. I would forever find this very amusing, bordering on irritation, when coming from my extremely involving lectures at 1pm, to find her just heading to the washrooms for her morning ablutions.
Even more amusing was her indifferent tendency to jump into bed at night before everyone else feigning some sleeping disease had suddenly attacked her and she would have to turn in, leaving me even more bewildered by her persona.
Was it really a sickness or just plain laziness? Either way, raised by a father who should have chosen the military as a form of occupation, I personally thought it to be a bad habit. Unfortunately though, I was never quite able to confidently point out this 'obvious' defect to her nor could I ever answer those tormenting and dumbfounding questions, for she always managed to score averagely, if not sometimes even better than the rest of us 'early birds'.
I believe if our dear parents realized the extent of freedom, their 'wise' decision to ship us off to a boarding environment accorded upon us, they would never again repeat such a 'mistake' to another one of their offspring. I say this with a light touch though, for I remember, this same freedom allowed me to think and accept that i do not have to sleep like the rest of the snoozing nation.
Life with my 3rd year roommate was an even more eccentric experience. Her aversion for class was similar to that of my sleep-stricken friend; but her practices were on the edge of mediocrity. I still laugh every time i think of her, both in horror and comforting nostalgia. Though later we did mature into a friendly relationship, her obsession with 'our' mirror greatly overshadowed that of her sleep, threatening at times to confuse our fragile union.
Again and as usual, in the early mornings, I would jump out of my top bunker and the first words that would pop out of her mouth were, "Pass the mirror." Dutifully I would do so, hurriedly scampering off to my wash, resurfacing 15 minutes later to find her still perfecting her image. I would dress up patiently waiting for my turn but after realizing the futility of my wait would dash out frustrated, my features obviously unattended to. Later on when the sun had gone down, still in 'bed' there she would lay , rosy and pink, 'our' mirror in hand.
Well I guess that would explain my present day art, well perfected, to compulsively and obediently scurry out of bed at the cock's crow; as if running from invisible voices trying to entice me to sleep some more. Perhaps I'll miss out on the angels' coming, or I'll find, while I slumbered my eye was gorged out, or I missed out on free pizzas being offered by my stingy neighbor next door.
So for me it will remain; as soon as the day breaks, so will my interest for sleep. OK, I am not saying that I will get out of bed literally everyday at that appointed time, but for sure, as soon as my eyes flutter so will my mind.
For as long as I can remember, I have always been a morning person. Morning for me is the time when my brain goes on involuntary overdrive and my heart begins to pump its blood at a dangerous breakneck speed. I am always amazed that people can sleep past 7am be it a holiday or weekend. What could they possibly be dreaming up or about? Perhaps they could share the secret that will finally rid me of my insomnia?
Back in campus I had a friend who could not be caught dead awake before noon regardless of the day, class or a sadistic professor. I would forever find this very amusing, bordering on irritation, when coming from my extremely involving lectures at 1pm, to find her just heading to the washrooms for her morning ablutions.
Even more amusing was her indifferent tendency to jump into bed at night before everyone else feigning some sleeping disease had suddenly attacked her and she would have to turn in, leaving me even more bewildered by her persona.
Was it really a sickness or just plain laziness? Either way, raised by a father who should have chosen the military as a form of occupation, I personally thought it to be a bad habit. Unfortunately though, I was never quite able to confidently point out this 'obvious' defect to her nor could I ever answer those tormenting and dumbfounding questions, for she always managed to score averagely, if not sometimes even better than the rest of us 'early birds'.
I believe if our dear parents realized the extent of freedom, their 'wise' decision to ship us off to a boarding environment accorded upon us, they would never again repeat such a 'mistake' to another one of their offspring. I say this with a light touch though, for I remember, this same freedom allowed me to think and accept that i do not have to sleep like the rest of the snoozing nation.
Life with my 3rd year roommate was an even more eccentric experience. Her aversion for class was similar to that of my sleep-stricken friend; but her practices were on the edge of mediocrity. I still laugh every time i think of her, both in horror and comforting nostalgia. Though later we did mature into a friendly relationship, her obsession with 'our' mirror greatly overshadowed that of her sleep, threatening at times to confuse our fragile union.
Again and as usual, in the early mornings, I would jump out of my top bunker and the first words that would pop out of her mouth were, "Pass the mirror." Dutifully I would do so, hurriedly scampering off to my wash, resurfacing 15 minutes later to find her still perfecting her image. I would dress up patiently waiting for my turn but after realizing the futility of my wait would dash out frustrated, my features obviously unattended to. Later on when the sun had gone down, still in 'bed' there she would lay , rosy and pink, 'our' mirror in hand.
Well I guess that would explain my present day art, well perfected, to compulsively and obediently scurry out of bed at the cock's crow; as if running from invisible voices trying to entice me to sleep some more. Perhaps I'll miss out on the angels' coming, or I'll find, while I slumbered my eye was gorged out, or I missed out on free pizzas being offered by my stingy neighbor next door.
So for me it will remain; as soon as the day breaks, so will my interest for sleep. OK, I am not saying that I will get out of bed literally everyday at that appointed time, but for sure, as soon as my eyes flutter so will my mind.
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