Struggle with Tuesday

As you and I and everyone paying any attention to the universe are aware, human beings are totally irrational creatures. If you disagree, I would advise you to look as subjects like anti-gay marriage advocates and women who think putting anything on a salad means it's healthy for evidence that logic doesn't live here. And there are many reasons that this is a good thing. Love. Faith. The mass consumption of reality television and the Harry Potter franchise. Okay, based on your personal feelings those last two might not work, but surely you can find something that does. The point is that I am not one of those "purists" that demands that everything "make sense" or be "logical". As someone who adores the struggle that is existence I am clearly more interested in the absurd then the rational, the inanity then the significant. Any idiot on the street can talk about the big picture but I flatter myself it takes a real genius to care about the awkward kid asleep in front of me in class. Flatter being the operative word there.

Now, in terms of my own irrational behaviour, as a rule I like to attempt some semblance of logical sequence in my day. You know, breakfast before lunch, cream cheese before lox, bros before hos, death before dishonor. The standards. Y'all know what I mean. But there is this thing I do that is totally insane and irrational (as opposed to all the other insane things I do) that this very morning bit me in the bottom. For reals.

You see, as a very young child I went to a school quite far away from my home. And while my mother is wonderful for many reasons she is not a morning person, so every morning at 5 in the morning my father would wake me up on several intervals, every 5 minutes, to be precise, until it was actually the time for me to wake up. Now, I'm not blaming everything about my personality and behaviour on my parents (yes I totally am) but this practice has stayed with me for quite a while. So much so that every morning I set my alarm at least an hour before I actually have to wake up. It's very satisfying to wake up and laugh at your alarm, mocking it's stupid buzzing little stupidity and then go back to bed. Despite the lack of any medical evidence to support this, I secretly believe this is the best kind of sleep, the sleep you know you are having. Its delicious. There is nothing better then feeling like you have gotten one over on a piece of machinery. It makes up for every time your computer crashes, I swear.

However, there are times when this practice can truly backfire. Like, for example, this morning. When after some of the nicest snooze time I'd ever had in my life, I awoke in a blissful haze to peer at my clock and gasp in horror at the time. 9:10 am. When, of course, my first class of the day was at 9:25 am. How charming. I took a moment to enjoy the strange delightful contours of the universe and then sprinted through my morning routine like a flannel clad tornado. Somehow, perhaps with divine intervention or superhuman speed bought on by adrenaline and self-berating inner monologues, I managed to grab a half a bagel and roll into class with my work for the day ready to go. I looked a hot messy struggle, but that really isn't the point, now, is it? No, the point is that I made it. I pushed through the struggle. I feel victorious and very zen right now.

So, if you will excuse me, I have to go to bed now. So I can do it all again tomorrow.