I once read an article about Tiger Woods in which he stated that gets up at 4:30a.m. every morning and that this simple act contributes greatly to his success. Golf success. Not cheating on his wife success. Which obviously was, depending on how you look at it, not a success.
I have never been a "morning person." I jokingly told Tariq the other day that in my ideal world, I am the last person to go to sleep and the last person to wake up. "So, basically, you would like to be a princess."
I am what I am.
Unfortunately, be it due to age or otherwise, I can no longer be productive when I stay up late and these pesky children and day job require that I get up in the morning. The resulting conundrum being that while I am the last one to sleep, I am now the second to wake up, courtesy Tariq's bedside service of a scalding cup of coffee every morning. This results in my being tired -- all the time.
Furthermore, while there was once a time where I could knock out thousands of words and tens of spreadsheets at the midnight hour, I now find myself in the regrettable position of watching hours and hours of "Cold Case Files" reruns. Not the documentary, but the show. It was produced by Jerry Bruckheimer. Shut up, it's good. That part at the end when one of the cops waves to the ghost of the murdered person gets me every time.
Anyway, the point is I can't hack it, this staying up late. Also, I want to be like Tiger Woods. Not the cheating on your spouse with strippers part. Just the "exceptional at what you do" part.
Today, I woke up at 5:20a.m. For those of you who are self righteous morning people, you know who you are, may I clue you into the life of someone who is a not a "morning person" who is attempting to be a morning person? The alarm blares. The sickening feeling that it's time to get up washes over you. Is it really time to get up? You glance at the clock and realize you are up about ninety minutes earlier than normal. It's still dark outside. The world feels empty. Too empty. There is no chatter. There is no light. There is no... coffee.
And what, pray tell, will you do with that extra ninety minutes? Write a novel? Make a spreadsheet of supplies needed to climb Mt. Everest? Let's just start with reading the instructions on the bag of coffee grounds. Two tablespoons to every six ounces of water? That seems excessive. The coffee is made and now there are precisely eighty two minutes left to kill.
Make that seventy two.