Thursday, May 28, 2009

Deceptively sleepy

This morning my body outsmarted my brain.

My alarm goes off at 6:40 AM like it does every weekday. The alarm I've chosen is the soundtrack to Katamari Damacy, a game with a musical score somewhere between 8-bit Nintendo music, Frank Sinatra, and J-Pop. I choose for my alarm to go off at 6:40 because it provides me enough time to hit snooze 2-3 times before I actually have to get up while still having enough time to shower.

I hit snooze and go back to sleep.

Ten minutes later the alarm is once again singing something in accented English that makes me think I should be wearing a smarmy suit in downtown Tokyo while holding a cocktail. I hit snooze again. The third time the alarm goes off it plays a piece of music never intended to wake anyone up; a piece that sounds similar to the score of a NOVA outer space special if played underwater. I groggily wake up, turn off the alarm and check the time. It's 7:06. I think, "Alright, time to wake up."

This is where my body becomes deceptive. Instead of getting up like my brain is ordering, my body offers a counter proposal.

"How about before I get up, I just lay down for a quick second--the bed is warm and it'll feel good to get one last boost of comfort before starting the day." it coyly suggests.

Playing with the idea, my brain offers a rebuttal, "But wouldn't that just make it harder to wake up? Wouldn't that be like offering a heroin addict one last hit before he finally quits?"

"Of course not! This is one last rejuvenating second of blissful splendor before going out in that cold world and starting your day of long, menial work. It'll be a booster shot of energy. Think of it like you're staying with a friend. Your bed is your friend, after all, right? It's better to leave on a positive note after a good night out than a resentful one where you begrudgingly just walk out the door." My body has had practice with this argument.

"Well, I suppose if you put it that way. A few seconds to say goodbye to my friend can't hurt."

And I laid back down for a minute. It was just as my body said; it felt good. It felt right. Deciding that minute was probably enough time, I got up--more rejuvenated than when I tried to get up before--and checked my phone. The clock read 7:42.

"That lying sack of meat!" my brain exclaimed. "It didn't want another minute of sleep, it wanted another 30 of them!"

I quickly throw on some chinos, socks, shoes, a polo shirt, and grabbed some Pop Tarts on my way out. And I'm a little wiser--don't trust the arguments made by my body at 7 AM. It's deceptive.


Becky said...

Have you tried the one where you imagine yourself getting up and getting ready, going through all these things in your mind, and then you open your eyes and discover that you're still in bed and have made no progress? I would also often lie in bed and say, "I will think about what I am going to wear today, so that by the time I get up, that decision is made." Caleb is a pretty good alarm clock and has been waking up around 6am most days. You can borrow him if you'd like.

--jeff * said...

your body's a jerk.

i would go through the same dual-arguments in high school, later trying to explain them to mom in reasonings as to why i was late for school. of course, having becky come down and yell at me that i was late for seminary trumped nearly all internal debates.