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Winter 2022
On New Years and New Resolutions
My New Year’s resolution this year was to wake up at 6 am every morning and write for an hour before starting my day. When I shared this at a meeting for the Social Quarterly, they asked me to write a little dispatch every morning about my progress. In this meeting, I was also called “the sleepiest person I’ve ever met” and “hopeless.” I defended myself during the meeting, but-- considering what I know happens in the rest of the story-- won’t embarrass myself by repeating those comments here.
Day 1 (Woke up at 6:00 am)
6:30 am: I’m a little tired, I’m moving a little slow, but I don’t think this will be that bad. I’ve made a pot of coffee and I’m halfway through it and I’m sure that once that caffeine starts to kick in, I’m going to be productive.
***
8:00 am: Well, I just looked at my computer screen without moving for an hour. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
Day 2 (Woke up at 6:11 am)
9:00 am: The coffee I have is broken. It doesn’t help.
Maybe the problem isn’t me waking up. Maybe I’m just dying. That’s what it feels like. My whole body feels like teen punks snuck into my room in the dead of night and beat me with their skateboards.
I couldn’t wake up enough to write, so after an hour I tried to read and fell back asleep. In those precious moments of slumber, I was happy.
Day 3 (Woke up at 6:17 am)
6:45 am: There is no way people wake up at 6 a.m. I know that some of the shifts on the farm start at 5:30, but surely that’s just a scam; a way to get out of working in the afternoon. They know that no one will find them out because that would require someone to get up at 5:30 to check; which I am convinced is IMPOSSIBLE.
I snuck into my roommate's room while he was still asleep. I leaned over him to inhale his exhales and see if I couldn’t siphon off any of that sweet sleep juice. It didn’t work.
Day 4 (Woke up at 6:22 am)
8:30 am: I spent an hour this morning looking into the mirror at the cruel, cruel man who is making me wake up at this ungodly hour. I threw my coffee at that horrid man, but that just meant that I needed to make more coffee. The morning is terrible.
I dragged myself to the window and saw Jen as she jogged by. I have no choice but to admit that some humans can wake up early in the morning. I still don’t understand why they would. Are there brains not screaming? Are there muscles not crying? Do their blankets and pillows not sing their names?
Day 5 (Woke up at 6:04 am)
7:15 am: I finally made it outside today. Did you know the sun isn’t even up this ealy? At first, I thought that my eyes were just waiting to wake up, too. But no; the world doesn’t want me to be awake this early, either.
Returning home, I snuck back into my roommate’s room. Still sleeping, he looked so soft and beautiful. So peaceful. So pure. If only someone could protect him from this cruel world of terrifying mornings. If only we could sleep forever.
Day 6 (Woke up at 6:09 am)
4:00 pm: I stood at the foot of my roommate’s bed for an hour. I thought about the beautiful dreams he must be having. A balloon ride to the Vatican. Running errands with an old friend. Having sex with a faceless man in a building that reminds him of his old high school but isn’t his old high school.
The broken shard of mirror glistened in my hand. My blood pooled where the shimmering edge met my skin. An appetizer. A warning. Could we really sleep forever? Was it possible? A week ago, I believed that if I could wake up at 6 a.m., there was no limit to what I could do.
As my fourth cup of coffee started to kick in, I returned to my senses. As I left his room, I painted his door frame with my bloody hand to signify that death had passed him over.
In the light of day-- with a few more hours of daylight and a few more cups of coffee-- my roommate still did not find this charming.
Day 7 (Woke up at 8:00 am)
I did not wake up early today. I thought it best. It technically counts as quitting, but I probably saved a life today; which, I guess, makes me a hero.
Day 1 (Woke up at 6:00 am)
6:30 am: I’m a little tired, I’m moving a little slow, but I don’t think this will be that bad. I’ve made a pot of coffee and I’m halfway through it and I’m sure that once that caffeine starts to kick in, I’m going to be productive.
***
8:00 am: Well, I just looked at my computer screen without moving for an hour. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
Day 2 (Woke up at 6:11 am)
9:00 am: The coffee I have is broken. It doesn’t help.
Maybe the problem isn’t me waking up. Maybe I’m just dying. That’s what it feels like. My whole body feels like teen punks snuck into my room in the dead of night and beat me with their skateboards.
I couldn’t wake up enough to write, so after an hour I tried to read and fell back asleep. In those precious moments of slumber, I was happy.
Day 3 (Woke up at 6:17 am)
6:45 am: There is no way people wake up at 6 a.m. I know that some of the shifts on the farm start at 5:30, but surely that’s just a scam; a way to get out of working in the afternoon. They know that no one will find them out because that would require someone to get up at 5:30 to check; which I am convinced is IMPOSSIBLE.
I snuck into my roommate's room while he was still asleep. I leaned over him to inhale his exhales and see if I couldn’t siphon off any of that sweet sleep juice. It didn’t work.
Day 4 (Woke up at 6:22 am)
8:30 am: I spent an hour this morning looking into the mirror at the cruel, cruel man who is making me wake up at this ungodly hour. I threw my coffee at that horrid man, but that just meant that I needed to make more coffee. The morning is terrible.
I dragged myself to the window and saw Jen as she jogged by. I have no choice but to admit that some humans can wake up early in the morning. I still don’t understand why they would. Are there brains not screaming? Are there muscles not crying? Do their blankets and pillows not sing their names?
Day 5 (Woke up at 6:04 am)
7:15 am: I finally made it outside today. Did you know the sun isn’t even up this ealy? At first, I thought that my eyes were just waiting to wake up, too. But no; the world doesn’t want me to be awake this early, either.
Returning home, I snuck back into my roommate’s room. Still sleeping, he looked so soft and beautiful. So peaceful. So pure. If only someone could protect him from this cruel world of terrifying mornings. If only we could sleep forever.
Day 6 (Woke up at 6:09 am)
4:00 pm: I stood at the foot of my roommate’s bed for an hour. I thought about the beautiful dreams he must be having. A balloon ride to the Vatican. Running errands with an old friend. Having sex with a faceless man in a building that reminds him of his old high school but isn’t his old high school.
The broken shard of mirror glistened in my hand. My blood pooled where the shimmering edge met my skin. An appetizer. A warning. Could we really sleep forever? Was it possible? A week ago, I believed that if I could wake up at 6 a.m., there was no limit to what I could do.
As my fourth cup of coffee started to kick in, I returned to my senses. As I left his room, I painted his door frame with my bloody hand to signify that death had passed him over.
In the light of day-- with a few more hours of daylight and a few more cups of coffee-- my roommate still did not find this charming.
Day 7 (Woke up at 8:00 am)
I did not wake up early today. I thought it best. It technically counts as quitting, but I probably saved a life today; which, I guess, makes me a hero.
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