Conscientious Hours

It is a common misconception at my job that I am often late because my alarm doesn't work. While there was such a period in my life, where no clock at all was even present in my room, this has never been cause for tardiness. I wake up on time. It’s what I do between the time I awaken and the time I leave for work that makes all the difference. I check email when I should be showering, surf Facebook when I should be shaving, and play Rock Band when I should be getting dressed. I am my worst own enemy; I need parental controls emplaced to limit the functionality of technology between the hours of 6:00 and 8:00 A.M.

Having left my apartment no earlier than 9:00, this is exactly what I think about as I walk briskly to the subway. The cool autumn breeze hardly counts as a tailwind but I make it to the platform just in time catch the next train.

The train is half empty, and sitting across from me is a young mother with a cute little girl who smiles personably at me and points it out to her mother when I smile back. The mother smiles too and they get off at the next station. I wonder if she noticed that I snapped a few candid photos for my blog.

On 59th I eagerly wait for the next train, and realize I will need to forfeit breakfast and coffee to make the 10:00 A.M. meeting. The B finally arrives and I fade for a few last minutes into the music playing from my Blackberry. Its Suzanne Vega's "Gypsy," from her Solitude Standing CD. "Hold me like a baby," she says, "that will not fall asleep. Curl me up inside you, and let me hear you through the heat."