This Must be what that Beautiful Mind Guy Feels Like

It is 0600. However, cosmically and in my brain it is still 5AM. But thanks to daylight savings time the clock says the universe and I are wrong. Since Sunday morning I have had a running argument with my Cerebral Cortex:

Me: The clock says 6AM.

Cerebral Cortex: The clock is wrong. The Universe says it is 5AM. Look outside. It is pitch black.

Me: Maybe its just cloudy.

Cerebral Cortex: Nope.

Me: But tonight, when I am coming home it will be light out.

Cerebral Cortex: Yes. Because it will actually be 5:30PM even though your incorrect watch says 6:30.

Me: I don't wear a watch.

Cerebral Cortex: I am aware.

Me: Is that attitude? Cause I am too sleepy for attitude coming from my brain at this ridiculous hour.

Cerebral Cortex: What the hell is that crap on your radio? I am going back to bed. Wake me up in an hour.

It is not that I am not a fan of Daylight Savings Time. I will be doing the Aztec Sun Dance tonight when I leave work and it is still light.   I work in an area without windows. It is a treat to see the sun at the end of my shift. and weird jerky movements tend to keep the weirdos away on the train. 

What I am not a fan of is getting up in the dark. Way back in the 70's President Carter did some messing around with the time change and I wrote a scathing entry into my 7^th grade journal. In the essay I may have compared our government leaders to a Banana Republic, ramped up my plight to compare with those in the Russian revolution and then ended with some choice quotes from Janice Joplin. My journalism teacher was terrified that the Secret Service would show up. I like to think he was worried about me and the ramifications of my indictment of the political process but I think in truth he was more concerned with the "cigarettes" he kept in his lower desk drawer.

Anyway. Daylight Savings Time is here. It is dark out. The cat is peeved because he can't go outside and my Cerebral Cortex is asleep.

Happy Monday!

PS- Dear Cerebral Cortex. The "crap" on the radio is SPA. I was hoping it would be more conducive to writing this morning than the usual news program I turn on. But I see where you are coming from. This synthesized pan flute shit is making me want to change my name to Trellis and dress like Stevie Nicks. Oh, and the cat is sitting in Lotus position and chanting. 

At least he quit meowing at me to go outside.