The View From Saturday

Today is Saturday. I woke up at 5AM, saw it was 5AM, and tried to will my body to sleep longer.  But at 6:30, I gave up and succumbed to wakefulness. Then I proceeded to the kitchen where I made coffee and washed dishes for half an hour. Since settling into the overnite shift, this has become a typical Saturday morning. Before this, I'd had little experience with voluntary early mornings, but I admit I like them. I encounter this whole group of people who I'd never see five months ago. They say "hello" on the street as you pass them walking to the grocery store at 8AM. Two or three hours later, the vibe of the neighborhood changes. The brunch crowd spills out onto the streets, sporting bed heads and large sunglasses. Never sweatpants, though -- This is Dupont f*cking Circle.

There's one drawback to the early mornings. They are, by nature, solitary. At least if you're not shacked up with a fellow early riser. And while this is one reason I love them, it's also a bit of social handicap. I was never one to go out of my way to hit up the bars and, as the yawns begin around 8PM, my aversion has only escalated.

My favorite kind of bar is the kind where you can sit down and/or have a conversation. This isn't quite in line with the scene favored by most early-20-somethings, so last weekend I tried to expand my horizons. I went out to The Mighty Pint in Foggy Bottom to meet some friends who had suggested the place. Upon arriving there, I immediately wondered how long I'd have to stay. After five more minutes in the place, I decided not a minute longer.

I am under no delusion: I am not the most easy-going when it comes to social events and being in a dark, crowded space with drunk strangers exacerbates the problem. So... I have my own version of the Irish exit. As defined by Urban Dictionary, an Irish exit "refers to the departure from any event without telling any friends, associates or acquaintances that one is leaving." Typically, an Irish exit-er is drunk and that is his/her excuse for an unexplained departure. But as a bit of tea-totaler as of late, I have no real excuse -- only complete intolerance of my surroundings. Luckily, two friends shared my sentiments and, gracefully and silently, we power-walked to the Bier Baron where we sat and talked and drank a single craft beer each.

Well, at 8:30AM, after she has slept the whole day away, Alex is awake. And so I bid farewell to the internet for now. Until next time.

Not A Morning Person

Today, I woke up at 5:20AM in order to be at work by 6.  I made coffee, packed my bag, and pedaled to work in the rain as the sun rose. And then I realized that my body thought I was going to the airport. I didn't need to hit snooze when my alarm went off, and I didn't crave caffeine with the usual intensity. But why? Because my body expected to be in a white noise, airplane engine-induced coma within an hour or two. Symptoms? Well, for one thing, I craved a hamburger. Yes, at 6AM, I wanted nothing more than a Big Mac. I couldn't quite make that happen, but luckily, the vending machine on the 7th floor sold microwaveable White Castle Burgers and man, were they delicious. My body eventually realized it wouldn't be flying.

There's no point to this story other than I wanted to share it and get better at blogging more frequently. If you need more, head to Autostraddle and read my latest post about Laura Marling, a folk singer I first fell in love with while in London.