Fight Club quote of the day:

Our fathers were our models for God. If they bailed, what does that tell you about God? You have to be prepared for the possibility that God does not like you.

Monday March 19. 2001
an on display collab : red

8:02 am

I wake up this morning without an alarm. I roll over, see the time displayed in bright red digital numbers, sigh, and roll back, cursing the bright morning light leaking from my bedroom's curtainless window. The evil exiled boxspring stands against the window for the express purpose of blocking the light, unfortunately. it is not good at its job. The light continues to wake me up every morning, without fail, progressively earlier every day.

I am pissed at this condition. Every. fucking. morning I am woken up by this cheery sunlight. Chirping birds. The bright red numbers like little glowing matchsticks, mocking my inability to voluntarily get up before 11 am. The back of my apartment faces east, I should've set up my bed in the living room - the windows face west.

I stumble into the bathroom. The light is pouring into this room too, lush, yellow light, spilling like liquid onto the shiny tile of the walls, reflecting a nimbus of colors onto the translucent shower curtain, the toilet seat and my haggard face reflected in the mirror. I have not slept enough, but what else is new.

I look down at the sink. The sink is made of porcelain, the bumps and swells of its form make the light fall over it gracefully. I touched it lightly with my finger. It was like milk, milk pouring from the window onto my sink. I felt strangely blessed. It was going to disappear soon. Wow, this is beautiful....

Get your camera, stupid.

I came back with my camera and began taking pictures. The angle wasn't right, so I find myself getting on top of the bathtub, still half asleep and nearly blind without contacts, taking pictures of my sink at 8:02 in the morning. Ah, yes, Bethany, such a consummate artist you are, risking life and limb to get on top of your bathtub to take pictures of your...sink.

By the time I finish, the light has changed and it is no longer beautiful. My patience with 8:02 am is rapidly wearing thin. I go into the living room and check my email, then back to bed. My first class isn't for another three and a half hours. I am coughing as I rearrange the covers which have somehow all ended up bunched up next to my head. My throat feels raw.

I look up briefly. The liquid crystal display glows brightly like HAL from 2001, ever vigilant and watchful, its redness shining the numbers "8:23" benevolently down upon me. I sigh, roll back over and try to sleep.

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One Year Ago:
"So yeah, next semester I'll be cheery morning person Bethany, like I am now. Ha."
(A coincidence? I think not)