Searching for a Clearer View

I'm running on four hours of sleep, and not a whole lot from the previous few nights either, so at the moment (and probably for the rest of the day) I am wracked with the symptoms of sleep deprivation. Nevertheless, I have just caught a glimpse of what it might mean to be a "morning person".

Two things to note here: The first is my penprevious post, in which I used the term "incredible lucid solitude". The second is that I have resolved (only incidentally in January) to wake up at 6 am every day for the entire semester, on the grounds that I will adjust, and it will be easier than waking up at 6 am (thoroughly unadjusted) two days a week. Today was the first day in weeks that I've woken up so early, and I am quite emphatically Not Adjusted yet.

Anyhow, my point is that I have just experienced something akin to the normal lucidity that for me is more common to staying up incredibly late, not waking up incredibly early. The drowsiness has dulled it, of course, but I get the feeling that once I have adjusted, I'll have five days a week containing several hours of clearheadedness, insight, and inner peace. Assuming, of course, that I am capable of adjusting. I've never been a morning person, but I'm starting to see that it might not be so different from being a night owl, after all. Just colder.

In Absentia

It's difficult to appreciate something in its absence. Ironically enough, this also applies to the appreciation of the absence of something. Say an annoyance, or physical pain. It's easy to look forward to relief, and enjoy the relief as it comes, but once it is gone we quickly return to base levels of happiness. This is true for just about everything, but it seems to happen even faster with negative stimuli.

Specifically I am referring to the dormitory I was living in this summer. It was a pretty awful place, and I couldn't wait to leave. But I have to say that the pleasant, warm feeling I got from being away from that place was more intense while I was still there, merely anticipating it. It was nice for the first hour or so, but a mere day or two after leaving, I find it difficult to enjoy the simple pleasures of quiet, companionship, and sanitation to the extent that I had expected. I'm not going to define myself by what I've left, but I would like it if I could remember it well enough to be thankful.