Mornings are the worst. I always seem to find my initial waking state largely inhospitable. The fact that my alarm will only snooze ten times and then shut off is an issue I confront at least three times every morning.
I sleep with my travel alarm clock in my hands--I am a runner on a starting block; I am strung in elastic vigilance; I am waiting for a pistol shot. Three years of roommates necessitate such potential energy. On the same subject: though I do not have roommates at the moment, you don't forget how to ride a bike.
I found balance in keeping the morning peace amongst roommates while simultaneously feeding a snooze habit. Snap too fast, I'm liable to wake with a start, which, while useful, is less enjoyable than a well-planned, responsible oversleeping. Too slow, and I incite the ill will of my cohabiters.
I am amazed, bordering frightened, of the achievements of myself asleep. Passwords entered, complex menus navigated, hidden clocks found. Half-way, I fear that simply for the sake of poetic justice I will one day discover my resting self has been rising at night and deftly fighting against every cause I have steadfastly supported. I only fear it half way, because everything I know tells me there's no way I--or any variation of myself--would get out of bed, unless it was in an effort to secure more sleep.
Technically speaking, I have no right to be upset. It's always a premeditated, unprovoked attack on my part. Before I lie down I set a trap. When it goes off, I know I will win the inevitable war of attrition. Battle after battle, then eventually I persuade myself there is no option but to rise.
I fight for consciousness. The alarm clock is our war, and the snooze button is our Appomattox.
Strange, I struggle to surrender to sleep in the evenings then fight to pry it away eight hours later.
When I was a child, my mother would drop me off at Montessori school. Kicking and screaming, I did not wanting to leave her. In the evenings I tried with might and tears to stay at school as long as I could. (I think this an early manifestation of whatever it is that makes me late.)
There are some mornings I am forced to use techniques, which I consider to be in bad faith:
--I schedule important meetings, doctors appointments, etc, at hours I have no business being awake at. Even half asleep, I have the good senses not to sleep through something important.
--I go to sleep with the dryer running, knowing full well I would feel irresponsible if I didn't wake with enough time properly put the clothing away. (As a point of concession, I acknowledge that the clothing must be fluffed for at least 15 minutes--time enough for one more snooze cycle.)
--I set my coffee maker to start brewing coffee before I am awake. My frugality forces me to save enough time to drink it. As an aside: I enjoy my coffee warm, consequently, the time elapsed from carafe to empty cup is atypically long.
--I drink large quantities of water shortly before falling asleep. This has not resulted in bed wetting since I was in middle school and one time when I was drunk, but I believe the latter event to be an aberration from my norm.
--From time to time, I ask friends to set my clocks ahead a reasonable amount of time (2-25 minutes). I do this on the advice of Sun Tzu: "All warfare is based on deception. Therefore, when capable, feign incapacity; when active, inactivity. When near, make it appear that you are far away; when far away, that you are near."
--I have contemplated buying a "shake-awake" alarm clock. I think it may still be on my amazon.com wishlist, but I'm not sure about that.
--Most days I take showers that are unreasonably cold.
These tactics are not things I enjoy. Suffice it to say: if a simple bell did the trick, I would use it. It doesn't; I don't. Instead I rely on complex methods and calculated tactics. They serve me well, and I am forced to full mental acuity by the process. Perhaps the struggle is nothing more than the normal course of a boot cycle of my human mind.
A victory over oneself is subtle wisdom. Lessons learned: The battles I cannot win today I will win tomorrow, so long as I do not raise my flag to defeat. And the battles I don't win? At least defeat didn't come for lack of trying.
Instead, I start every day locked up tight in a test of wits and will, facing my only truly matched competitor, reminding my upright consciousness I'm racing no one but myself, and truth be told, we're on the same side.
