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“Dad?” She asked, leaning on the kitchen counter, watching me take plates out of the dishwasher.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know about new year revolutions?”

“Yep,” I said.

I knew what she meant.

I wanted to hear what she had to say.

“Do you have any?”

“Not really,” I said. “Mom and I don’t really do that.”

“Why not?

“Well, we’ve found that it doesn’t really work for us. We have goals and things that we focus on . . . I don’t know.”

“My teacher was talking about new year’s revolutions today. He said he had a few.”

“Oh? Did he tell you what they were?” I couldn’t resist.

“We told him he should tell us, but he said they were kind of personal.”

“Hmm.”

“But he said we might want to make some for ourselves. And we might want to write them down.”

“Yep.”  I said with an encouraging glance.  “So did you?”

“I think I want to keep my room clean.”

“Perfect!” I said. “That sounds like an awesome idea. And by the way, it’s reSolution. Not reVolution.”

“Whatever.”

I shrugged. “Right. Whatever.”

Genius in the Slip of a Tongue

But even during that exchange, I  sensed a shimmering of truth. I think a Revolution is just what I need. A total shift. A conscious change leading to something profoundly better.

Because what I’m doing now just isn’t working. I mean, sure. We’re making it. Plugging along. For the most part things are good. I’ve got a good thing in my teaching job. The purchasing job worth about $200 extra bucks a week ain’t bad either.

We’ve got a roof, clothes, transportation, food, health insurance, yadda, yadda, our health, love—all that.

As far as basic needs go–life is good.

If it weren’t for this underlying tension. The thought that we are right on that line. It seems to be holding now—so that’s better. But things are still just so damned tight. Not much room to wiggle. If the car broke down tomorrow, I fear we’d be right back in the red.

Truth be told, we’re in the red today, just not as crimson a red as a year and a half ago. Now it’s just a light red. But I’m sick of red. Sick of it I tell ya!

(queue “awakening” music–like the theme song from “2001: A Space Odyssey”)

So, here’s what I’m thinking. Screw it. For years, we’ve been picking away, learning, biding our time, waiting.  And I think we may finally be on the cusp of something.

‘Course I always feel that way.

I’ve some got ideas, you see. Plans are in the works.

‘Course, I’ve always got ideas and plans. The problem has only been in following them to fruition. Persistence. Unfailing Dedication and all that.

As I look back at things—all my wonderful schemes—I have to be honest. It’s been time. The daily grind wears at me. Up at 7:00 and between two girls, two jobs (one which Stephen King likened to hooking your brain up to a pair of jumper cables), and a workout if I’m lucky, go ‘till midnight, sometimes later. Sleep. Then do it all over again.

Honestly, where is the time? Where is the energy?

I’m not complaining. I’m really trying to figure this out. I read all the self-improvement literature. Listen to all the time management gurus. Follow all the advice. But there’s one thing I haven’t done that (I’m hoping) will tip the scales.

Become an early riser.

(queue inspirational music-like the theme song from “Rocky”)

Everything I’ve read. Everybody I’ve talked to says it makes a huge difference.  Compared to the evening, you’re supposed to get so much more done in the morning.  It supposedly sets the tone for the rest of the day.  Efficiencies skyrocket.

I guess I have experienced it, and darn it, it sure does feel good getting a jump on things. I just haven’t been able to do it consistently, or much, or even once in awhile.

I’m a nighthawk.  Even now, it’s 12:30 a.m. as I type this.

For me, all systems are go at night. I fire on all cylinders. I can focus. I feel sharp. Energetic. Creative. Alive.

Mornings? Not so much.

But here’s the thing. What I’m doing now isn’t working. Well, I mean it’s working–I guess–but it’s not getting me exactly where I want to go. And it’s not getting me there fast enough. And at 36, quite frankly, I’m afraid it will never get me there.

(”Rocky music builds, singers, “getting stronger . . . .” )

Time for a Revolution

So here’s what I’m going to do:

No matter what time I get to bed, I’m going to get up with Lisa. Most of the time that means 5:00 a.m. just before her morning workout. I’m a light sleeper so I always wake up when she leaves.

Lisa is a morning person. Always has been.  Bugs the hell out of me.

We’re complete opposites that way. She’s morning; I’m night. She sleeps heavy; me–light. It takes her (I am not making this up) less than a minute to fall asleep when she goes to bed. I might squirm for an hour.

Anyway, I don’t care anymore. If it helps, I’m going to do it.

God knows I’m primed and ready for a quantum leap. But in order to make it, I simply need to get more done. I don’t need a tweak in my schedule. I don’t need a vacation to re-charge, or a change of diet, or a little exercise.

I’ve done all that.

(music builds to crescendo)

I need a revolution.

A New Year’s Revolution

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