I�m having a hell of a time getting started in the mornings lately. I�m not sure what all that�s about, since it�s not as if I�ve been out carousing until all hours or anything. I mean, I guess I�ve been carousing to some hours, but not all of them. And that�s only on the weekends, because those of us tethered to our jobs by an ever-tightening choke-chain of emotional suffocation feel pressured to behave in a "responsible" manner.
Anyway, I peel my lids open at that point in the morning when a shot of adrenaline kicks open the door to my heart and barges inside like an FBI sting. Coincidentally, this particular point usually comes approximately an hour before my alarm is set to go off. For some reason, though, my subconscious becomes thoroughly convince that I have already slept through the alarm, and if I don�t get out of bed and into the office within the nanosecond, my ass will be stripped bare and hanging over the line by noon (if it isn�t noon already). Of course, once I�m shocked into a state of quasi-wakefulness, I see that the sun is only barely up, and I collapse back onto my (sagging, dead) mattress, and attempt to fall back asleep.
This happens almost every single morning, without fail. You would think that at some point my body would become able to trust itself as far as its ability to wake when the alarm goes off. Unfortunately, my body and the alarm clock didn�t have the most solid relationship in high school, and we�re still suffering the lingering, psychological consequences of that communication disaster.
In any case, I usually spend the next hour waking in a cold sweat every ten minutes, positive that this time, I really did sleep through the alarm. This goes on and on until the clarion call of my dastardly clock finally sounds and I have to drag my leaden body from the (waning) comforts of my (dilapidated, declining) bed (I need a new one) and force myself to perform my morning ritual by rote. I feel like a trained monkey in the morning, unable to focus on more than a single task at a time, and unable to issue any enjoinder to my body that might require the process of free thought.
And then I end up here. At work. Sipping a cup of coffee strong enough to bench-press the table on top of which the pot brewed. And still I feel like that trained monkey, incapable of doing anything not dictated by instinct, unable to trust that if I dig a little deeper into my cerebellum for inspiration, I won�t get tangled in a spider�s web of random, faltering synapses that never quite generate a complete thought before their inevitable death.
Maybe I�ve just become unwilling to put forth the extra effort it takes to be a contributing member of society in the mornings? Maybe this is my body�s passive way of rebelling against the current state of affairs by conserving its energy and creative juices for a time when their use will generate more personal pleasure. It�s hard to say why I�ve been having increased difficulty in my efforts to feel like a human being before lunchtime -- which, I have to admit, has never been easy for me -- but there it is.
But still I know I must press on -- perhaps one of the facts that ironically daunts my progress, actually -- and ride into the daily rodeo that is life. I may not need to express a conviction I don�t feel as I lasso and wrangle various obstacles in my path, and I may not need to do any of it with a smile on my face, either�but it would be nice to do it and feel like I�m alive.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: aaron carter nude And: pictures of "chanel jacket" I�m Watching: Fletch Lives on AMC. Chevy Chase used to be pretty incomparable. And: Futurama. Damn you, American public, for allowing this show to be cancelled!