Oh the difference coffee makes. I wish that there was a sign above my head every morning that just said "Coffee will make this better" and I would believe it.
I hate getting up in the morning. I think everybody does, obviously, but I just needed to get that out there. The weird thing is, I like the mornings (Peep one of my first posts about it). Even though I feel as if the mornings are my most productive time, I still hate getting up. This rant is going nowhere, so I guess I'll talk about something else.
I can't understand how swimmers do it. Waking up at FOUR AM every day takes an incredible amount of willpower. I guess once they get into the pool and begin their workout everything changes. I wonder how long it took for them to become accustomed to their hell-like schedule. I doubt they chose that life for themselves, so at what point did they sell their soul and give up 3 hours of sleep every morning?
I remember in 5th grade I signed up to take music classes every Monday morning. It started at 6am and went until the normal day started. I chose the drum lessons for no particular reason, and the first day of lessons we were given a shitty little pad to beat up on. Fuck that, I wanted a drum!
So I went a week without practicing because I practically slept through the entire lesson, so when the next lesson came up I still had 0 training in the instrument. Luckily, it's very easy to bullshit your way through a group lesson after 1 week. I was still a bitch ass little kid with no intention of getting up at 5:30, so I kept on not paying attention for the second lesson. Another week goes by, and the third lesson starts. I walk in with my little pad, but everyone else has a drum. A huge drum. Well, it was a normal drum, but we were like 4 feet tall at that point, so it was half our size. I have no idea how everyone else got a drum, but it probably had to do with that sheet sent out at the first lesson. Whoops.
Everyone was tinkering around with their new toy and I felt betrayed. Here I was with my 2 inch pad that made no sound compared to military grade technology. It was like going to fencing practice with a pool noodle. It's like being in a frat and wearing cargo shorts. I was humiliated.
To make it worse, the instructor was pretty obvious in his disdain for my handicap. He asked us to play a section, then would ask me to play it again because he didn't hear me the first time. I'm like yo, obviously. What the hell do you expect, they have fucking drums, they barely have to hit them to blow your ears off. I would try to compensate by hitting it super hard, but then he would tell me to relax. I think I cried after that, I was a sensitive kid.
That was my last drum lesson. I tried to get out of it by begging my parents, but they weren't convinced. So, I started sleeping in class and missing homework to show that waking up early once a week ruined me as a student. It was a bold move, but it paid off big time and I got out of everything. I'm happy I had that extra time to sleep instead of developing both musical knowledge and discipline that would have helped me succeed in high school and beyond, but honestly, I'm happy that I go to a state school like Oneonta. Quitting got me this far, and sleeping keeps me going.
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