Morning People

Between graduating from school, enrolling in therapy, quitting my barista job, finding a full-time graphic design job, and breaking my leg, I've had pretty eventful year. And I've learned a lot. A LOT. I've mostly learned a lot about myself. For example, I always assumed I despised morning people. As a barista, you get really good at making fun of and bitching about perky morning people. Even my best friend, Sam, hates mornings. I'm sure she would have eaten her young years ago if it weren't for the fact that she doesn't eat breakfast. We've had several conversations about the injustice of mornings and morning people.

Recently however, I've come to a rather stunning realization. I am a morning person. And I have been my entire life. It hit me one morning a couple of months ago when I was riding the bus to my new job. There was a gorgeous sunrise that lit the sky on fire. I couldn't help but smile when I saw it. 

Sunrise over Georgetown, Seattle

I then preceded to go to my favorite coffee shop (The Essential Baking Co. in Georgetown) to grab a mocha and lemon bar. From there, it was over to the office to start my day. It was about 7:30am. I was the first one in. I was able to boot up my computer, check my email and sip my coffee in a quiet peacefulness; no phones ringing or office dogs barking, no one demanding my attention at that exact moment. Just me, my coffee and my quiet routine.

I love routines. I operate best when I have my set routine. I can handle obstacles and upsets like a pro; I occasionally enjoy those too. But as far as mornings go, I love my routines. Ever since I was little I've have a morning routine. My mother would quietly tip-toe into my room to wake me up; she'd set my brother and me in front of the television with a cup of Cheerios or Teddy Grams and we'd watch Sesame Street or Zoobilee Zoo while she got herself ready for work. It was our quite time. In a home full of chaos, mornings were always the same. They were stable. They were safe. They were peaceful.

I believe my mom is a morning person too. It's always been a sort of bonding time for her and me. When the rest of the house was asleep, we'd wake and share coffee, breakfast and a newspaper together. Ironically, I have a vivid memory of a tee shirt she used to wear frequently on the weekends. It read in bright bold letters "Perky Morning People Should Be Shot!" We're far from "perky" but we're definitely morning people.

Homemade Mocha in a handmade ceramic mug made by my mother <3

I think being a morning person is what drew me to being a barista. Getting up at 3 or 4 or even 5 in the morning sounds like such a pain in the ass. It's unnatural to have to set your alarm for any time before 6 am. And yet... I could shower, dress and head for work in a complete haze. Once I arrived at work, I was able to start my real routine. I could set up the cart, put all of the pastries out, count the till, start up the machine and organize my day. I could do it on autopilot with my eyes closed.

Having a morning routine, starting my day on my terms, easing into the unpredictable chaos of the world, has kept me from killing many people. My mornings are for me. Some people cherish their time at night to unwind. I need my my mornings gear up.

I might have to resign myself to being a morning person, but this does not mean that I will tolerate overly perky morning people. Just because I'm awake early does not mean I want to deal with your loud, obnoxious, excessively joyful quirkiness. Shut up, sit down, and enjoy your coffee. 

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I'm going to leave you with this. I grabbed it from a friend's facebook page and I thought it worth sharing. Enjoy :)