JIMMY'Y GRADING

Waking Up

The room was dark and the silence defening. The only thing that can be made out is a bed in the middle of the room which caught tiny bits of sunlight through the closed blinds. One would think that that the room was completed vacated but under the pile of blankets in the middle of the bed she lied at peace in her slumber.

Out of no where, a shrill alarm echoed off the walls and amphlified the sound. The tone was so loud and unpalitiable to the senses that it could have risen the dead, however, she didn't move an inch. Minutes pass by with the alarm still ringing its warning that the day has begun and now it is mixed with dog cries from just outside her door in the kennel, and yet she doesn't move.

How long will this last? Is she okay? It is a wonder how anyone with any sense could allow for this situation to happen without reaction, but why isn't she responding?

Under the covers, curled up into a small ball, her slumber is uneffected. Her selective hearing had completely blocked out all sound and she was unaware that the alarm was even beckening her.

Outside the bedroom door a man smiles in amazement. This event happened everyday and yet he still could not understand it. Maybe he never would. His job every morning was to wake the sleeping beauty when all modern technology continually failed. He opened the door with his right hand as he held the handle of a mug in his left trying not to burn his hand with its contents. For her he knew that the black liquid would soon restore life to her, and without it a miracle would be needed.

As he crosses he room he has no impuse to worry about the noise he made because she would never hear it. Walking over the bed, he removes the covers, finds her hand, and wraps it around the cup. In that moment her eyes begin to flutter and for the first time she is showing signs of life.

Although the act of waking up feels as if someone is taking a butcher knife to her heart, coffee is always the cure for the pain. The morning becomes bareable as she takes the first sip but she will not move from her place until the cup is half-empty. After that the battle was over for her and she always lost to the calling day.

No animals were harmed in this narrative

My Favorite topic

I was unsure of what I wanted to write for this blog until just a few minutes ago. My husband was lying down taking a nap and upon waking he related to me the his dreams. This is a normal occurrence, usually reserved for the morning, while we both talk over the brims of our coffee cups, and it is my favorite part of the day.

I am not what anyone would define as an early riser. My husband makes fun of me because I tell him that it physically hurts me to wake up some mornings. He is convinced that it is a form of laziness, but to this day I will swear it to be true.
Usually to get my out of bed he has to come in to the room with a cup of coffee, and it is only when I feel the warm cup in my hand that my eyes begin to flutter and give signs that I may be returning back to life.

For the first thirty minutes we usually take the time to either complain that we couldn’t get enough sleep or relay the images that are beginning to disappear far to quickly from our dreams. The dreams that I have never make sense, although I still try to tell him about where my mind had taken me the night before. What I love the most about it is listening to him.

Sometimes I sit back in amazement and listen to the words and I can’t help but smile. I love him for so many reasons, but more than anything he can make me smile and laugh. I have never known another person who has an imagination similar to his. The way that his mind works is probably the primary reason why he has the key to my heart. Even in his dreams he has the ability to take an ordinary situation like going to class and turn it into a moment that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

It’s funny how the events that are supposed to be so life changing take smaller places in your mind than the little moments you share over a cup of coffee in the morning.

The room was dark and the silence deafening. The only thing that could be made out is a bed in the middle of the room which caught tiny bits of sunlight through the closed blinds. One would think that that the room was completely vacated, but under the pile of blankets in the middle of the bed, she laid at peace in her slumber.

Out of no where, a shrill alarm was amplified as it echoed off of one wall to the other. The tone was so loud and unpalatable to the senses that it could have risen the dead, however, she didn't move. Minutes passed by with the alarm still ringing its warning that the day had begun. Contributing to the melodic madness, a dog was howling, in his kennel, and his cries begged for her attention. And yet, she didn’t move.

How long would this last? Was she okay? It is a wonder how anyone with any sense could allow for this situation to happen without reaction, but why was she not responding? Under the covers, curled up into a small ball, her slumber is unaffected. Her selective hearing had completely blocked out all sound, and she was unaware that the alarm was even beckoning her.

Outside the bedroom door, a man smiled in amazement. This event happened everyday and yet he still could not understand it. Maybe he never would. His job every morning was to wake the sleeping beauty when all modern technology continually failed. He opened the door with his right hand, and held the handle of a mug in his left trying not to burn his himself with its content. For her, he knew that the black liquid would soon restore life to her, and without it a miracle would be needed.

As he crossed he room he was not driven by impulse to worry about the noise he made, she would never hear it. Walking over the bed, he removed the covers, found her hand, and wrapped it around the cup. In that moment her eyes begin to flutter and for the first time she is showing signs of life.

Although the act of waking up feels as if someone is taking a butcher knife to her heart, coffee is always the cure for the pain. The morning becomes bearable as she takes the first sip but she will not move from her place until the cup is half-empty. After that the battle was over for her, and she always lost to the calling day.
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For the first thirty minutes they usually set aside time to either complain that they were unable to get adequate sleep, or relay the images that are beginning to disappear far to quickly from our dreams. Her dreams are random and nonsensical. Even in her best efforts she does not have the ability to make the right connections to show one scene leads to the next. At one moment she is saying that together they were walking through a field, then suddenly they were in a darkened alley being chased by a big, blue, furry monster, and a moment later they were eating corn on the cob and both of them were covered in butter. They, like everything that randomly went through her brain, were scattered as if in her dreams she suffered from a severe case of A.D.D

On the other hand, his sense of humor is even recognizable when he is not conscious of it. She would sit back in amazement and listen to his words, unable to remove the smile from her face. His dreams always related his own life to the world that she lived. He had not taken a class in over twenty years, however, the typical scene of his dreams was usually contained in some kind of scholastic backdrop. He talks about how they were walking to class together, he was carrying her books, and she was wearing his letterman’s jacket. There is always a major dilemma that together we have a solve like the time we had to save the gym class by finding who stole the school’s supply of dodge balls.

In reality that story states nothing at all, or at least something that most of the world would not consider ground-breaking or very influential, but to me it’s everything! These are the little moments in time that have a greater impact on my happiness than any world-altering event that takes place. It is how I get grounded in the morning, the moments when I realize how lucky I am, and reason why I know from the moment I open my eyes why I chose him to share my life.

How I mixed it up

Maria's diddy
Lyndseyfication
remixing Frank
mixing Jakob up
Trains

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