7 A.M.
Ack!
How is it that even after a mere four hours of sleep I'm awake at: 7 A.M.? Or when I know I don't have to get up for another hour, my job's moved to Santa Monica, and the commute that was a bear has turned into a deer, why oh why am I awake at: 7 A.M.? Not my body, perchance, just my brain, working overtime, making up for vacation? Who the hell knows? But 7 A.M.?
Now, seriously, I really have been thinking about this. I know there's no morning sex in it for me (however, well-prepared I may be for it). And there's no way I'm awake thinking, hmm, how about a little morning jaunt over to the grocery store. It surely isn't because I'm dedicated to someone else's novel, or my own for that matter. I don't have any meetings, appointments, interviews, dates; I don't even have a planner! There can't be an earthquake every day at 7 A.M., can there be?
So I've come to the conclusion that every Detective in Los Angeles fears - DNA analysis, inconclusive.
I wonder if something special is happening at 7 A.M. that the sun seems to know. And my brain senses these electrodes zapping energy between synapses I thought for sure were dead to the conscious and alive only to sleepy dreamy land, where boys always love me, do what I say, and I never need money, sometimes I'm being chased, but I get away or turn around and win the battle. Needless to say, I awaken each morning at 7 A.M. wishing for just one more hour of sanity.
Perhaps something is plaguing me and I have yet to find it. That's the therapist's standard answer. Or perhaps there's something magical about 7 A.M. I have yet to discover.
How is it that even after a mere four hours of sleep I'm awake at: 7 A.M.? Or when I know I don't have to get up for another hour, my job's moved to Santa Monica, and the commute that was a bear has turned into a deer, why oh why am I awake at: 7 A.M.? Not my body, perchance, just my brain, working overtime, making up for vacation? Who the hell knows? But 7 A.M.?
Now, seriously, I really have been thinking about this. I know there's no morning sex in it for me (however, well-prepared I may be for it). And there's no way I'm awake thinking, hmm, how about a little morning jaunt over to the grocery store. It surely isn't because I'm dedicated to someone else's novel, or my own for that matter. I don't have any meetings, appointments, interviews, dates; I don't even have a planner! There can't be an earthquake every day at 7 A.M., can there be?
So I've come to the conclusion that every Detective in Los Angeles fears - DNA analysis, inconclusive.
I wonder if something special is happening at 7 A.M. that the sun seems to know. And my brain senses these electrodes zapping energy between synapses I thought for sure were dead to the conscious and alive only to sleepy dreamy land, where boys always love me, do what I say, and I never need money, sometimes I'm being chased, but I get away or turn around and win the battle. Needless to say, I awaken each morning at 7 A.M. wishing for just one more hour of sanity.
Perhaps something is plaguing me and I have yet to find it. That's the therapist's standard answer. Or perhaps there's something magical about 7 A.M. I have yet to discover.
posted by JadedTLC at Monday, July 18, 2005
2 Comments:
Thought I'd pop over here and say hello! Your 7am problem is exactly like mine... except backwards. My problem is more along the lines of 'why will my brain not switch on at 7am when I need it to?' Even when I'm out of bed, opening the blinds, in the shower etc. why is my mind still in a coma? Quite the mystery.
Thanks for commenting~ And I'm still in the mystery of 7am. going to the gym isn't working either. maybe someone in my apt complex has an alarm going off that they shut off just as my eyes open?
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