I don’t know if being immune to the hellish daily disturbance we know as an alarm clock is a super power or a disorder. Or both. But whatever it is, I have it.
I awoke this morning, blinking through rays of dim light escaping from behind my sister’s drawer where the lamp had stood guard in our bedroom all night. I checked the alarm clock. Seven o’ clock. What?! I have class at eight, and university is an hour commute away.
I jumped out of bed, brushed my teeth, washed my face, combed my hair. I hopped into the first pair of jeans I could find and wore the first shirt off the rack. I grabbed my grey Toms and slipped them onto my feet.
I was running late. Again.
“Why didn’t anyone wake me up? Did you turn off the alarm? I remember setting it at five.” I asked my sister in frustration.
“I didn’t.” Her monotone voice was diluted with sniffs. She awoke with a bad cold that hindered her from going to work. “Maybe you just turned off the alarm clock.”
“I don’t even recall hearing it. It’s been like this for the past few days.” I set the alarm, and wake up an hour later. All the time. I don’t understand if there’s a sort of alarm clock fairy that turns off all alarm clocks just before they happen to ring. Not to mention, I did not only set the clock. I also set my phone. When I ignore that alarm, at least when I see it, it tells me that “5.00am alarm” was dismissed. But the familiar message that usually mocked me, telling me I overslept did not appear on the screen.
“Maybe you did, and you were just too sleepy to remember.”
Was I really that tired, that unmotivated to get up that it’s been installed in my subconscious to turn off the alarm and go back to bed?
Maybe I am.
I am constantly being plagued by this state of mind of unmotivated frivolities and uninspired, monotonous living. It seems like no cup of coffee can cure this social disease of constantly feeling tired. We lack a sense of urgency merely because we lack a sense of purpose. What am I doing this for, and why am I wasting my time on this? Everything just seems so pointless.
I’m usually the biggest pep talker of them all. I’ve talked people out of quitting on things, especially math majors and other university undergraduates who’ve lost sight of what their goal was because the journey’s been long, tedious, horrendously difficult, all too challenging and definitely disheartening. I’ve managed to encourage friends to soldier on with their daily turmoil with their peers, family, and their unreachable dreams.
I’ve basically been the big sister figure, always telling people that there is always, always, always a point, and that there is still beauty in things if we just look into them hard enough and with a hopefully greater, renewed sense of conviction. I’ve always been the one to remind people how strong they are, and how much stronger they can still be to hold on, to keep marching on, to fight the good fight.
But I’ve been having difficulty doing that for myself lately.
I feel like a failure, simply because I am. And when society tries to rub that in your face, the best way to survive it is to ignore the sneers and jeers and just go on. Ignoring works for the most part, but desensitizing yourself from insults and snide comments also deafens you from the wake-up call.
We’ve all had someone to slap us in the face or pour ice down our pants, figuratively, telling us that there’s something wrong in our lives that we have to change, to fix or to improve on. Whether it’s a bad attitude, an academic concern, bad grammar, social awkwardness, horrible work ethic, an overly extensive fit of post break-up bitterness, unhealthy grievance or mourning over a death, or a druggy-drinking, throwing-up-everywhere excessive partying kind of problem, someone’s been there to tell us that we have to set things right. But, like all life changing decisions, that’s always easier said than done.
Waking up with a sharp blast of ringing in the morning from a fairly peaceful sleep feels nothing short of shit. But being woken up from being a failure, being told that you fail in your pathetic excuse for a life and you have to suck it up, stop being a baby and do something about it, would make you want to give your life’s personal ‘wake-up call’ person a pat on the back. Very forcefully. With a wooden paddle.
But no matter how painful things may sound, by the end of the day, no opinions matter. Just facts. And if people’s views on you contain more grains of truth than bias or prejudice, then it’s time to consider their insults as very hard-hitting, truthful, unedited pieces of constructive criticism. No more changing topics. No more pretending. No more denial. It’s time to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. And listen.
The Wake-Up Call Apathy Syndrome, the Selective Hearing Disorder or the Alarm Clock Immunity Disease is an illness in a staggering majority of people, but it can be cured. It can be diagnosed with the manifestations of the following symptoms:
- Not wanting to listen to anyone’s advice.
- Not caring.
- Having little to no motivation to get up, or accomplish anything.
- A constant feeling of being a failure.
- A lingering sense of lack of self-worth or purpose.
- Being too afraid to change things.
- Taking the easy ways out.
- Pushing people away.
- Always wanting to find something to do.
- Always wanting to have nothing to do.
- That unshakeable feeling of being insatiably tired, sleepy or bored.
Treatment starts when the patient consciously submits himself, puts down his pride and admits that he has a problem, and is in need of help.
Hearing your alarm clock, getting up and getting a move on, no matter how groggy you feel, is the only way you’ll be able to start the day and continue living your life.
Step two, prepare the coffee.