The progressively annoying sound of my alarm beeping makes me roll my eyes even when I haven’t opened them yet. I fumble with my clock to find the seemingly invisible off switch and resort to yanking it out of the wall. A sigh of relief is the sound that starts my day. Sitting up as I run my long piano fingers through my curly mop, I look around my dark room and wish I really wasn’t awake. I stand up and pull the beaded string on my lamp which illuminates what seems like the whole house. I scrunch my nose and close my left eye, my signature way-too-early-to-be-awake face, and look at myself in the mirror. A grunt from the back of my throat at my reflection can mean so much at 5am, but at this point it’s always the same thing; just walk away. I head to the bathroom to face the dreaded fluorescents and the ice cold porcelain stool. I come back to my room to stare at a pile of every type of jeans, but always settle on a pair of the skinniest. I slip on my jeans and think about what message I want to send today; “I really don’t care”, “I dressed up extra nice today”, or “Hi. I’m Katie and this is just what I pulled out of my closet.” Most of the time, I choose the last one. I pull a t-shirt or a sweater out of my drawer and sort through some jewlery. Usually, I settle on a simple charm bracelet or a pretty necklace. I head towards the mirror, which automatically reminds me how much I hate my hair. I spray my hair down with water, add lots of product, and finish it off with a spritz, or 12, of hairspray and a million bobby pins. I run to the bathroom and apply just enough concealer and foundation to cover up my flaws and then brush my teeth. As I hop about the kitchen, pulling on my boots, toothbrush still in hand, I call for someone to wake up. I tiptoe to my room, throw on my coat, and sling my 50 pound bookbag over my shoulder. As my dad honks the horn at me, I shove a piece of gum in my mouth and head out the door. I flop in the car and crank up the radio as we drive down the dark roads only lit by the streetlights. We gently come to a stop at the giant doors of High School and I yet begin another day of “well provided education within a caring atmosphere full of people that are purely concerned about making my future bright”. I’m always so thrilled. With a peck on the cheeck to my father, I step out of the car and saunter my way to the door. After replacing all of the books in my backpack with new ones, I head to my first hour of the day, which happens to be my passion; Band. I pass through the wooden doors and can’t stop the giant smile that wipes across my face when I see him. I drop my bag and meet him in the middle of the room. The combination of his pearly white smile, his oh-so-perfect blonde hair and his sweet blue eyes makes me realize why I woke up and that I’m glad I did. He is my “Good Morning Sunshine” and my “Good Night Beautiful”.
Good Morning Sunshine, Good Night Beautiful
January 11, 2011