My morning routine is automatic; eight minutes and thirty seconds, approximately; and I'm out the door, on my way to the dining hall. I usually wake up before my alarm clock; for some reason my dreams are intervened, as if they're too emotional, and I check my clock. It's almost always an hour before I have to get up, so I smile and roll over.
Just moments later I hear the charms; they aren't charming in the slightest, but they control my attention and my movement; within seconds I have both feet on the floor. My entire outfit-socks included, of course-is piled on my chair, in order. After that I put my purple beanie on-well, that's obvious. My backpack has been organized, my teeth are brushed, and I'm sprinting down the hallway.
My headphones, once clenched by my fists, are suddenly freed and placed into my ears. I pause, but only momentarily-to turn on my phone and press play. Though I love music, I skip at least three songs before choosing one. I don't know how to explain it, I guess I want something that's reflective of my mood, which, usually, is tired and excited for the day.
The stairs have become a drill too; I start with my right food and end on it too, skipping every other step in between. The beats play with my feet and my fingers on the railing, as if the music puts me in an uncontrollable motion. I can feel the edges of my lips rising, begging to sing along;yet, I remain quite, fearful of waking someone up.
Fill the cup with ice, pour hazelnut coffee over it until it's about a centimeter from the top, add whole milk for no more than 6 seconds, add sugar, and mix. The variety in the morning is scarce, so I often end up eating a couple hash browns or cereal. The melody flows with me like a shadow, even though I've left both my bag and my coat in the first booth on the right side. Music is a constant for me; it only ceases when I'm busy with conversation or caught in slumber.
The bus is packed, yet I can't hear it's clamor. My favorite songs ring in my ear, and I'm lost in their ever-captivating tunes. I wish to get up and dance; I enjoy the feeling in my gut every time I spin or shift my body in the most elegant way possible. I don't consider myself a professional dancer-or even a dancer, but I love it. I love indulging myself in the sound and allowing my body to move with the music, as if we're partners in a tango.
Jumping off the bus- I never step down- I begin my sprint to my class. I enjoy passing other people on my walk; I have a very competitive nature in me. I'll think to myself, "and she passes another; the winner prevails!" I'm sure people wonder why I walk so fast--I mean, I do, trust me. I actually started counting my steps in a given amount of time--the results show that I can walk about two steps per second. Keeping this in mind, I began counting my steps overtime I went to a usual place; I now know it takes me about 180 steps to get to the bus stop; that's approximately 1 min and 30 seconds.
If I want to get somewhere faster than my usual time, I turn on upbeat music. Electronic and instrumental-that stuff gets me moving. Depending on how much slush is on the snow, how/how not sore my body is after a night's arduous workout, or how cold it is outside, I can walk around a pace of 3-4 steps per second. I tend to do this before my 8:30a.m. class because walking faster makes me more alert of the beauty of my campus and less alert of the bitter winter.
I have my own music preferences and I understand that everyone is different-so I'm not trying to imply that I believe electronic and/or instrumental music is the only type of music that can make someone happy. Instead I'm trying to persuade you, my dear reader, that music is a great thing that should be part of your day. At least one song! I cannot stress it enough; music motivates, music influences emotion, and, most importantly, music adorns time.
Just moments later I hear the charms; they aren't charming in the slightest, but they control my attention and my movement; within seconds I have both feet on the floor. My entire outfit-socks included, of course-is piled on my chair, in order. After that I put my purple beanie on-well, that's obvious. My backpack has been organized, my teeth are brushed, and I'm sprinting down the hallway.
My headphones, once clenched by my fists, are suddenly freed and placed into my ears. I pause, but only momentarily-to turn on my phone and press play. Though I love music, I skip at least three songs before choosing one. I don't know how to explain it, I guess I want something that's reflective of my mood, which, usually, is tired and excited for the day.
The stairs have become a drill too; I start with my right food and end on it too, skipping every other step in between. The beats play with my feet and my fingers on the railing, as if the music puts me in an uncontrollable motion. I can feel the edges of my lips rising, begging to sing along;yet, I remain quite, fearful of waking someone up.
Fill the cup with ice, pour hazelnut coffee over it until it's about a centimeter from the top, add whole milk for no more than 6 seconds, add sugar, and mix. The variety in the morning is scarce, so I often end up eating a couple hash browns or cereal. The melody flows with me like a shadow, even though I've left both my bag and my coat in the first booth on the right side. Music is a constant for me; it only ceases when I'm busy with conversation or caught in slumber.
The bus is packed, yet I can't hear it's clamor. My favorite songs ring in my ear, and I'm lost in their ever-captivating tunes. I wish to get up and dance; I enjoy the feeling in my gut every time I spin or shift my body in the most elegant way possible. I don't consider myself a professional dancer-or even a dancer, but I love it. I love indulging myself in the sound and allowing my body to move with the music, as if we're partners in a tango.
Jumping off the bus- I never step down- I begin my sprint to my class. I enjoy passing other people on my walk; I have a very competitive nature in me. I'll think to myself, "and she passes another; the winner prevails!" I'm sure people wonder why I walk so fast--I mean, I do, trust me. I actually started counting my steps in a given amount of time--the results show that I can walk about two steps per second. Keeping this in mind, I began counting my steps overtime I went to a usual place; I now know it takes me about 180 steps to get to the bus stop; that's approximately 1 min and 30 seconds.
If I want to get somewhere faster than my usual time, I turn on upbeat music. Electronic and instrumental-that stuff gets me moving. Depending on how much slush is on the snow, how/how not sore my body is after a night's arduous workout, or how cold it is outside, I can walk around a pace of 3-4 steps per second. I tend to do this before my 8:30a.m. class because walking faster makes me more alert of the beauty of my campus and less alert of the bitter winter.
I have my own music preferences and I understand that everyone is different-so I'm not trying to imply that I believe electronic and/or instrumental music is the only type of music that can make someone happy. Instead I'm trying to persuade you, my dear reader, that music is a great thing that should be part of your day. At least one song! I cannot stress it enough; music motivates, music influences emotion, and, most importantly, music adorns time.