Early Riser
I woke up prematurely to the sound of incessant crunching a few feet from my window. It turned out that the carpenters of our soon-to-be neighbors decided to shovel gravel from their truck so early in the morning, at 6:15. But it wasn’t that a big deal for me; I usually wake up at around that time anyway. Actually, 6:15 is a little late for me.
I always wake up at 5:30 to 6 am no matter how late I have slept the night before. Don’t ask me why. I guess the genes are partly to blame. My mom, the forever insomniac, wakes up at around 3 am and just stares at the ceiling for 2 to 3 hours before going down to prepare breakfast. If she ever completes the required 8-hour sleep, it would be a miracle—as amazing as turning water into wine. On the other hand, my dad always hits the 8-hour mark (even exceeding it) but he’s already skipping rope and working out at the gym as early as 4 am. Do the math and find out how early he’s slept the previous night.
The other culprit for my early wakefulness is my childhood school bus. At just 6 years old, I was forced to wake up at 5:30 am to take a shower, dress up, and eat breakfast before the bus picked me up at 6 am. Talk about child stress. This went on for a decade, until I graduated from high school.
Now a full-grown adult, I still struggle with my biological clock. For 5 years, I worked in TV production and would have no sleep at all. Since I’d always wake up early even if I slept in the wee hours of the morning, I’d twiddle my thumbs and walk around like a zombie, until late afternoon, when I’d fall asleep. So even if I wake up at 5 am the following day, I would feel refreshed because I retired at 5 pm the afternoon before.
I apply the same principle after gimmicks. I just pray that my zombie self won’t encounter an intellectually or physically tasking errand the day after. When that happens, I am doubly tired.
Early to bed, early to rise— miss out on the nightlife is a line from a song I heard years ago. Sometimes, I’d rather skip a late night-out and snuggle in my bed at 8 or 9 pm. But I wake up the following morning to bright sunshine, chirping birds and the crisp, fresh air. I go to the mall, just as it opens, and do my shopping without the madding crowd. I drive home without contending with traffic, which has only begun to build up on the incoming lane. Once at home, I take a quick nap with the smug satisfaction that I’ve finished my errands, with still much of the day left.
Too bad the late risers miss out on that.
I always wake up at 5:30 to 6 am no matter how late I have slept the night before. Don’t ask me why. I guess the genes are partly to blame. My mom, the forever insomniac, wakes up at around 3 am and just stares at the ceiling for 2 to 3 hours before going down to prepare breakfast. If she ever completes the required 8-hour sleep, it would be a miracle—as amazing as turning water into wine. On the other hand, my dad always hits the 8-hour mark (even exceeding it) but he’s already skipping rope and working out at the gym as early as 4 am. Do the math and find out how early he’s slept the previous night.
The other culprit for my early wakefulness is my childhood school bus. At just 6 years old, I was forced to wake up at 5:30 am to take a shower, dress up, and eat breakfast before the bus picked me up at 6 am. Talk about child stress. This went on for a decade, until I graduated from high school.
Now a full-grown adult, I still struggle with my biological clock. For 5 years, I worked in TV production and would have no sleep at all. Since I’d always wake up early even if I slept in the wee hours of the morning, I’d twiddle my thumbs and walk around like a zombie, until late afternoon, when I’d fall asleep. So even if I wake up at 5 am the following day, I would feel refreshed because I retired at 5 pm the afternoon before.
I apply the same principle after gimmicks. I just pray that my zombie self won’t encounter an intellectually or physically tasking errand the day after. When that happens, I am doubly tired.
Early to bed, early to rise— miss out on the nightlife is a line from a song I heard years ago. Sometimes, I’d rather skip a late night-out and snuggle in my bed at 8 or 9 pm. But I wake up the following morning to bright sunshine, chirping birds and the crisp, fresh air. I go to the mall, just as it opens, and do my shopping without the madding crowd. I drive home without contending with traffic, which has only begun to build up on the incoming lane. Once at home, I take a quick nap with the smug satisfaction that I’ve finished my errands, with still much of the day left.
Too bad the late risers miss out on that.
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