Denial: Nope. This is not real. I don't have to get up. No one would notice if I just stayed in bed forever. I can totally sleep for another 3 hours. Probably this is just a dream and my whole life has been a dream and if I got back to sleep I will wake back up at nap time in kindergarten and I can go play with Playdough and blocks until snack time.
Anger: Shit. Fucking Fuckers. Damn it.
Bargaining: If I hit snooze then I'll so be ready to wake up, five minutes makes a huge difference. Dear God, I know we aren't very tight, but like do me a solid and just turn back time real quick? Coolio, I owe you one bro.
Depression: There is no point to anything and everything is dumb. School is dumb. The sun is dumb. The weather is dumb. Thinking is dumb. Moving is dumb. This bed is dumb. The morning is dumb Coffee is dumb. I'm sorry I take that back coffee, I love you. But everything else, you're still dumb.
Depression: There is no point to anything and everything is dumb. School is dumb. The sun is dumb. The weather is dumb. Thinking is dumb. Moving is dumb. This bed is dumb. The morning is dumb Coffee is dumb. I'm sorry I take that back coffee, I love you. But everything else, you're still dumb.
Acceptance: Ugh. Shit okay, well if this turns out not to be a dream and I fail out of college I will be so screwed. Also the sooner I get up the sooner I get coffee.
Once my brain decided to actually wake up I could begin the slow process of getting my body to agree with me. I let out a low grunt that gradually elevates in pitch until it becomes a squeal, this habitual noise is my built in alarm system (batteries not included). I point my toes and wiggle my feet, preparing them for the trek they are about to embark on. Then I throw my arms above my head to stretch them out as well, but on the way up they smack the make shift shelf stuck to the wall with a single command strip. Then the thick, plastic container, holding two books, my hair clip, and a book light fell like the Power Tower, leaving a lovely throbbing feeling on my face. To save time, for a description of my reaction to this event please refer to the previously mentioned stages of grief.
With my eyes still stuck together with the glue of dispair, I shift my weight around until I am miraculously able to heave myself upwards and began my descent down my poorly designed loft bed. Mindful of the uneven bars that line the head of my bed and stay up all night giggling about how good they are gonna get me in the morning by pretending to be a ladder, I clutch the side of my bed as tightly as possible to avoid any further injury. I lower myself down the side of my bed quickly and swiftly only to be thwarted again in my attempt to start the day smoothly. Sadly, while trying to outwit the jerks that pretend to be my ladder, I had to focus all my energy on not falling and I forgot about the precision it takes to guide myself through the narrow space between my bed and my roommate's. My hips are lodged between the two beds and only one foot knows where it even is, the other is being a brat, dangling in the abyss somewhere. With my feet choosing to be extremely unhelpful, I'm forced to I hoist my self up with my still-sleeping arms enough to twist my body to the proper angle. This actually ended up took so much energy that I assumed someone must have injected liquid McChicken strips into me while I slept and I morphed into Honey Boo Boo's mom overnight.
Eventually I stumbled through the blackness into the bathroom. As I opened the cabinet and searched for my bundled hog hairs on a stick and magic teeth goop I was having no luck. Then I remembered that when one is hoping to see an object it is imperative to open one's eyes. With that bit of advanced science on my side, I conjured up all the energy I could and peeled open my eyelids, which felt more opening one of those lift and pull cans of tuna than using a supposedly reflexive muscle. Squinting through my sleep frosted vision, I was able to find all my toothbrush and toothpaste (you didn't actually think I kept bundled hog hairs and magic teeth goop did you? I'm a college student! I can't afford magic! Get some perspective brosef).
After making myself socially acceptable in the bathroom I started a pot of coffee. I grabbed a granola bar and a banana and sat down to watch my daily fill of news from SourceFed on youtube while I waited for my coffee to be ready. When I powered on my computer I saw that I had only 15 minutes until I had to leave. Somehow I had lost 20 minutes blundering around in the bathroom. Without thinking—thats kind of my thing if you didn't catch on— I shoot up out of my chair, hitting my small Ikea table and knocking over the cup of tea I didn't clean up last night. Shit. I trudge over to the shelf where we keep the paper towel and wipe up the mess and take the cup into the bathroom.
Now I only have 12 minutes. I decide to sacrifice my usual charade I put on of having any sort of style and just stay in my sweat pants and tie dye t-shirt I wore to bed. I throw my hair into a pony tail and search for a clean pair of socks, but I was a fool for thinking I'd be so lucky to find any. I dig through my dirty laundry hamper and find the least smelly pair. That'll do donkey, that'll do. After my shameful outfit is complete I pack my backpack and while I'm zipping up all the pockets I realize I've lost my favorite pen. Please refer to the above stages of grief. I have 7 minutes until I have to leave. Shit! I never drank my coffee. I scuttle over to the coffee maker excitedly, anticipating the wonderful experience sure to come when my lips touch that miracle liquid. I take a sip and it rips my hopes and dreams away and throws them on the floor next to the overflowing garbage can by being gross and cold. As I am not a weenie, I do not sit idle by and weep while my hopes and dreams hang out with the garbage can. No sir! I take charge and toss my coffee in the microwave for 1 minute. It beeps and I eagerly grab the cup and ignore that the cup is too hot. Then what do you know I burn my upper lip when I sip it and it is very very very hot. I grab a spoon and stir and blow and try not to think about how much I just want to fall into fetal position and go hang out with my hopes in dreams by the garbage.
I throw on my back pack and give my coffee about a minute to cool off, I think he just wanted some space and its understandable, I've been quite clingy and needy lately. When my coffee starts warming up to me again, I lovingly suck it all down only taking breaks for air. We really do belong together. I was supposed to leave one minute ago, time flies when you're going absolutely insane. I grab my keys and I'm out the door. My scrambled thoughts continue to bombard me all the way down the street until I get to the pond. As I stare out at the artificially manicured nature I see a group of ducks. I think about how they don't even have to get up, like they could sleep all day and here they are, up and at 'em, just being ducks. Then all of the jumbled fragments of ideas in my head disappear for a second and I have this moment of clarity where I realize that ducks are some pretty cool guys.
Once my brain decided to actually wake up I could begin the slow process of getting my body to agree with me. I let out a low grunt that gradually elevates in pitch until it becomes a squeal, this habitual noise is my built in alarm system (batteries not included). I point my toes and wiggle my feet, preparing them for the trek they are about to embark on. Then I throw my arms above my head to stretch them out as well, but on the way up they smack the make shift shelf stuck to the wall with a single command strip. Then the thick, plastic container, holding two books, my hair clip, and a book light fell like the Power Tower, leaving a lovely throbbing feeling on my face. To save time, for a description of my reaction to this event please refer to the previously mentioned stages of grief.
With my eyes still stuck together with the glue of dispair, I shift my weight around until I am miraculously able to heave myself upwards and began my descent down my poorly designed loft bed. Mindful of the uneven bars that line the head of my bed and stay up all night giggling about how good they are gonna get me in the morning by pretending to be a ladder, I clutch the side of my bed as tightly as possible to avoid any further injury. I lower myself down the side of my bed quickly and swiftly only to be thwarted again in my attempt to start the day smoothly. Sadly, while trying to outwit the jerks that pretend to be my ladder, I had to focus all my energy on not falling and I forgot about the precision it takes to guide myself through the narrow space between my bed and my roommate's. My hips are lodged between the two beds and only one foot knows where it even is, the other is being a brat, dangling in the abyss somewhere. With my feet choosing to be extremely unhelpful, I'm forced to I hoist my self up with my still-sleeping arms enough to twist my body to the proper angle. This actually ended up took so much energy that I assumed someone must have injected liquid McChicken strips into me while I slept and I morphed into Honey Boo Boo's mom overnight.
Eventually I stumbled through the blackness into the bathroom. As I opened the cabinet and searched for my bundled hog hairs on a stick and magic teeth goop I was having no luck. Then I remembered that when one is hoping to see an object it is imperative to open one's eyes. With that bit of advanced science on my side, I conjured up all the energy I could and peeled open my eyelids, which felt more opening one of those lift and pull cans of tuna than using a supposedly reflexive muscle. Squinting through my sleep frosted vision, I was able to find all my toothbrush and toothpaste (you didn't actually think I kept bundled hog hairs and magic teeth goop did you? I'm a college student! I can't afford magic! Get some perspective brosef).
After making myself socially acceptable in the bathroom I started a pot of coffee. I grabbed a granola bar and a banana and sat down to watch my daily fill of news from SourceFed on youtube while I waited for my coffee to be ready. When I powered on my computer I saw that I had only 15 minutes until I had to leave. Somehow I had lost 20 minutes blundering around in the bathroom. Without thinking—thats kind of my thing if you didn't catch on— I shoot up out of my chair, hitting my small Ikea table and knocking over the cup of tea I didn't clean up last night. Shit. I trudge over to the shelf where we keep the paper towel and wipe up the mess and take the cup into the bathroom.
Now I only have 12 minutes. I decide to sacrifice my usual charade I put on of having any sort of style and just stay in my sweat pants and tie dye t-shirt I wore to bed. I throw my hair into a pony tail and search for a clean pair of socks, but I was a fool for thinking I'd be so lucky to find any. I dig through my dirty laundry hamper and find the least smelly pair. That'll do donkey, that'll do. After my shameful outfit is complete I pack my backpack and while I'm zipping up all the pockets I realize I've lost my favorite pen. Please refer to the above stages of grief. I have 7 minutes until I have to leave. Shit! I never drank my coffee. I scuttle over to the coffee maker excitedly, anticipating the wonderful experience sure to come when my lips touch that miracle liquid. I take a sip and it rips my hopes and dreams away and throws them on the floor next to the overflowing garbage can by being gross and cold. As I am not a weenie, I do not sit idle by and weep while my hopes and dreams hang out with the garbage can. No sir! I take charge and toss my coffee in the microwave for 1 minute. It beeps and I eagerly grab the cup and ignore that the cup is too hot. Then what do you know I burn my upper lip when I sip it and it is very very very hot. I grab a spoon and stir and blow and try not to think about how much I just want to fall into fetal position and go hang out with my hopes in dreams by the garbage.
I throw on my back pack and give my coffee about a minute to cool off, I think he just wanted some space and its understandable, I've been quite clingy and needy lately. When my coffee starts warming up to me again, I lovingly suck it all down only taking breaks for air. We really do belong together. I was supposed to leave one minute ago, time flies when you're going absolutely insane. I grab my keys and I'm out the door. My scrambled thoughts continue to bombard me all the way down the street until I get to the pond. As I stare out at the artificially manicured nature I see a group of ducks. I think about how they don't even have to get up, like they could sleep all day and here they are, up and at 'em, just being ducks. Then all of the jumbled fragments of ideas in my head disappear for a second and I have this moment of clarity where I realize that ducks are some pretty cool guys.
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