With insomnia, nothing is real. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.

So Caroline wrote this and inspired me to tell a story (hush, LB).

I am, similarly, NOT a morning person. The primary reason is that I cannot go to bed on time. Tonight, for instance, it is 12:30AM and I am up typing blog entries. Why? Anyway, I have similar stories from high school. EVERY MORNING Pop (my dad) would spend 30 - 45 minutes as my personal, human alarm clock. He came with a snooze button. He would say something to rouse me. My response would be something to the effect of, "werwerw wer wregf gfdew ygfojidsknewr y5bt3krwejhfds!" He would go away. Ten to fifteen minutes later this exchange would be repeated.

At Lipscomb, every morning began with this strict ritual: I had a CD player alarm clock that would start playing an audio cd. The same track of the same cd every day. It was on the other side of the room from my bed. After about ... I dunno, 5 - 10 minutes of it blabbering I would get up and hit the snooze on it and (of course) return to bed. This would afford me about 2 - 3 minutes of deep slumber before the alarm clock next to my bed would go off. I would reach over and use the Force to trip its snooze button. Two to three minutes after that, a desk lamp which hung on the wall about 2 feet from my face would turn on (it was on a timer). It would scorch my flesh just long enough for me to turn it off immediately before the cd started playing again. This cycle would be repeated for about 45 minutes to an hour.

Did I mention that I had a roommate that endured this EVERY DAY? He can STILL quote the first chapter of my audio book. When he would describe my ritual to others, he would include hilarious accounts of my facial expressions as I became aware of each alarm. He said I looked as if I was shocked that morning actually happened, as if it made no logical sense to me that I had to wake up in the morning.

His alarm clock system comprised of the following: a single alarm clock with a beep almost as loud as a squeak in a tennis shoe. Most mornings it wouldn't go off. He would beat it to the punch. If it ever did go off, it would beep ONCE.

Now, some mornings he would get up early to do homework. He had a computer in the room and would type his papers or what not. When he did that (keep in mind my previous story), I swear it sounded to me like he was pounding on the keyboard so hard that he was about to ram the keys completely through the back of the desk. Of course, he was just typing like normal. It drove me crazy. Whenever I would point this out to him (that's a nice way of putting it) he would remind me of my ritual.