Moan-day

... ... BUZZ.  
I hate mornings.  More accurately, I hate Monday mornings because that means it is six 'o clock and cold outside.  Hop out of bed, slip on my discarded book bag and pick myself back up, I continue to rue pre-caffeinated existence.  Blaze a path through the dark jungle of my room towards the bathroom, I emerge from one cave only to enter another.  Flip the light on, scowl at the unnecessary brightness of the burning bulbs above and begin my morning routine.  Glance at the mirror: facial hair not too bad -- don't need to shave, pick up toothbrush, remind self to pick up more toothpaste on the way home today, put down toothbrush, step deftly around the electronic scale and enter the shower room.  Turn the handle towards scalding, I almost step in, forgot to take off t-shirt and shorts, amend that and resume my ritual.  HOT!

... ... Vroom!
I don't hate driving.  It is just when time is a factor every single minute incident sends me into a verbal cascade of pronouns, nouns, adjectives, and adverbs.  Throw on my jacket, grab my book bag, quickly finish my glass of orange juice, wince at my self inflicted pain to my brain and flee out the door.  Lift the handle to my car door, walk back inside, snag my keys, callously toss my personal effects into the passenger seat and start the engine.  Accelerate and break, signal left then right, take the on-ramp after barely making the last stop light to only gape at the onset of traffic before me.  Verbally cascade, accelerate, signal, dodge, weave until I inevitably get stuck behind some monstrosity with more inertia than I.  Punch the radio, dial through my favorites until I get to something reasonable, ad comes on, change station, ad comes on, change station, public talk radio... punch the radio again and surrender to silence.  Vroom.

... ... RING!
Scratch that.  I am in college, I haven't heard a class bell in a very long time and not that I miss it mind you.  Do battle with countless other students for optimal parking spots, get out of the car, lock it, unlock it, get my book bag out and lock it again.  Wait, did it actually lock?  Stare through the window, click my lock button on my key a few more times until it locks.  Glance around nervously visualizing other people imagining that maybe I am someone trying to break into my car, realize no one cares and proceed onwards towards class.  Pull back my jacket sleeve, forgot my watch, rifle through my pocket for my cell phone, stare at the small LCD screen and then sprint.  Burst into the room, clumsily try to close the door softly, ignore the awkward stares then take note that I am actually, a bit early.  Pull out my notebook, my text book, my favorite pen and press the side button three times on my phone to make it silent.  BEEP.  Beep, beep.  Listen to lecture, take notes, doodle in the margins, get frustrated at my inability to draw hands, raise my own hand to get a look at how the fingers attach themselves, get called on and hastily make an on-topic comment.  
Leave my first class, detour towards a vending machine sporting various caffeinated beverages at slightly inflated prices, twist open the magical elixir and stuff the bottle into it's rightful place by my side.  Trek towards the library, glancing at the people who pass me by, get nervous when somebody briefly makes eye contact, reroute eyes back towards the ground and hasten my pace ever so slightly.  Almost to the sliding doors, get ambushed by a friend who undoubtedly recognized my hasty retreat and moved to intercept, face the fiend by grinning widely and carrying on a boisterous conversation while emulating his personality patterns so that we can better get along: if he likes to laugh or speak philosophically - I do my best too.  Explain to him I have some reading to do and we part ways, arch my eyebrow far above the other as I make my way into the vault then relish in getting blasted by the warm inside air.  Look for an open seat, go up a floor, look for an open seat, go up a floor, find a small corner out of the way and make myself comfortable.  Tear open my book bag, retrieve the necessary reading material I should have read the nights before, twist open and quaff my potion and stare blankly for a moment, prioritizing what I need to do.  I devour the knowledge with little grace but great practiced skill, highlighting things in my mind keeping each page clean all the while checking the time as it is my only adversary.  Time's up, pack up and head down a floor.  Scurry out the moving doors after both childishly and stealthily waving my hand for them to open then I scuttle down the ramp towards my next destination.
Having prepared for this class I sink to the ground in front of the door, joining my peers in anticipation for the lingering students from the class prior to finally cease questioning their teacher, I take a moment.  The door bursts open, everyone stands up and people of various ages crowd into a room a bit too small and yet a bit too big.  We are at tables, on tables and in free standing chairs with only the professor remaining standing, walking and talking.  Her voice is nasally, her words hard to understand but with plenty of great things to explain.  I take notes, flip through the reading, raise my hand and the girl off to my right unabashedly blurts out what I wanted to say.  I frown, lower my hand and go back to flipping through the reading.  We are told about projects and papers and due dates, oh no.  Later, I nervously begin to glance at my phone, the time continually to get nearer and nearer to the end as the professor's conclusion was no where close by.  I chew my lip, twiddle my thumb, take a few last minute notes and am miraculously released.  I stuff my goods back into my bag, stand up from my chair and run out the door.  My legs are pumping, my bag is flopping and my hair is totally getting in the way of my eyes.  Across sidewalks, grass and courtyards my destination quickly comes into view.  My final class of the day and not a moment too soon!
This class is the one I had been waiting for all day long.  I am tired, hungry, dizzy and developing a bit of a cramp as I stumble into the classroom with a smile on my face.  I had read and prepared and taken careful mental notes of all I could.  The class begins, I take out my notebook, my texts, my references, my favorite pen and take off my jacket to hang on the back of my chair.  My favorite professor lectures and jokes and guides discussions with care.  My pencil is flying and ideas come rushing in to my head and out of my mouth like the tide.  I cross my arms and legs, lean back in my chair, chewing on the tips of my pen while others participate and incite further discussion of the material at hand.  My eyes light up, my brain is set on fire and I ultimately became a completely different person.  And when the final joke told, the final point and counter-point had been discussed and the final assignments and packets of reading had been distributed, I leave for home.
I drive into my familiar parking spot, turn off the engine and grab my book bag from the seat adjacent.  Open the garage, take off my shoes, slam my face into the locked door, retrieve my keys and proceed into the house.  Wander downstairs, discard my book bag onto my bedroom floor and flop down onto my bed.  The intercom buzzes, a voice asks if I wanted to come up for dinner, I grunt a response and just pull my blanket over my head.