Weirdo

Normally I'm not one for getting up super early. Yes, there was a period of time when I was doing my student teaching that I just LOVED waking up at 6, seeing the winter sun rise, all the unimaginable colors that came with it, the quiet of the dorm before anyone else was awake. There was an independence that came with that solitude -- a quiet that is hard to find in our noise-polluted world.

At any given moment from my office I can hear: 12 phone lines, two fax machines, people at one of 100 mailboxes, anyone visiting the main office, the photocopier, and West St. traffic outside of my office window. For the past few months I've been coming in a 9 and leaving at 5, and by the time I get here in the morning everything is already running full tilt. Get out of its way or it will run you over. By five most people are gone and it's quiet, but there's nothing renewing about that silence -- no peace, just...aloneness.

This week I've started on my summer schedule, one that brings me in at 8. I usually am at my desk by 8:05, and there are a few murmurs here and there of other early birds, but it is this impossible silence that every year when I switch to this schedule I remember. I remember how much I love easing into my day, with time to boot up, read my emails quietly, turn on my heater, get some water. Sit and think and go purposefully forward.