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Despite what it looks like, I am not following up Beatles Week with Vanilla Ice Week (regardless of Brent’s suggestion).

On Saturday, a bunch of Careerians went to an Indiana Ice hockey game (weirdly, their webpage has an ad before you get to any content.) It was only the second hockey game I’ve ever been to, and while it certainly was fun, nothing occurred during the game that would elicit a reaction anywhere near this:

From L. to R: Jen, some of Melissa’s hair (I think maybe she’s glad she didn’t show up in a picture where I look like a raving loonie), me, Jodi, and Melissa (a different Melissa!)

That picture actually shows up on on the Indiana Ice website, in the photo gallery for this game, along with a few other pictures of our group (thanks, Jonell, for finding them!). I think we can all be glad there is no video of me trying to get a free T-shirt by whooping and hollering. What’s a little loss of dignity in the face of getting a free T-shirt? Sadly, it didn’t pan out, so lost some dignity for nothing. That probably would have happened without the prospect of a free T-shirt anyway, so I’m okay with it.

As I’ve mentioned, the game was fun. Hockey’s kind of like a fast moving, more violent soccer. While no actual fights broke out (much to Lee‘s disappointment), there were plenty of solid hits. It was relatively high-scoring for a hockey game (4-3) and even went into overtime and ended in a shootout, so it’s hard to complain about the lack of a fight.

What was more interesting to me was the immediate sense of community bestowed by the game. I’d never been to an Ice game before and was only barely aware there even was a hockey team in the state, but there I was rooting for the Ice like I’d gone to school with each of them. Collective pronouns were par for the course – “We need a goal!” “Our guy just smacked into that other guy!” and that kind of thing. It wasn’t just me, either. We were all rooting for “our” team, made “ours” because it says “Indiana” right on their jerseys and we, being Hoosiers, had to root for them. If it had been two Indiana teams, we would have had to choose between them using a complex algorithm using geographic proximity, experiences in the respective towns, and location of family and friends.

I was again reminded of the Jerry Seinfeld bit where he talks about sports (paraphrased): “You got a guy on your team and you love him. He’s the greatest guy there is. During the offseason, he gets traded to a different team, and when that team plays against your team, you hate the guy. He’s the worst guy ever. What’s different? The guy hasn’t changed. All that’s changed are the clothes he’s wearing. We’re rooting for laundry, basically.”

I’m not a full-on Sports Guy by any stretch of the imagination. I don’t memorize stats, I barely know the players on my favorite teams, and I don’t plan my day around watching games. Even so, I find it’s easy to get excited in the sports atmosphere. There’s a sense of camaraderie with the other fans, even if you’re rooting for different teams – rivalry is its own specific sort of camaraderie – and it’s a good feeling to have that connection with other members of the human race, even if it’s for something as unimportant as a minor league hockey game.

It was a good time, and I really only have two quibbles:

1. Our team lost.
2. They never once played “Ice Ice Baby” in the arena, a song that you would just assume would be their theme song, wouldn’t you?

Song Info (from Beatlesongs):”Here Comes the Sun” is on the Abbey Road album and was 100% written by Harrison, who also sang lead on it. He was quoted as saying it seemed like winter in England went on forever and responsibilities with Apple (The Beatles’ recording venture) were getting him down, so one day he took off, went to Eric Clapton’s house, and wandered around in the gardens with one of Clapton’s acoustic guitars and wrote this song.

Earlier this year my cousin Jim posted suggestions on how to wake up early. A few months later, Gretchen did a post on gaining more time in your day. While I’d been mulling Jim’s thoughts for a while (six months!), Gretchen’s was a kick-in-the-seat sort of enabling post that got the ball rolling for me.

During the summer I had gotten into the habit of going to bed really late. This, of course, made it difficult for me to get up on time in the morning. With that kind of start to my day, I was having difficulties just getting stuff done and even feeling like getting stuff done. Every few weeks I’d hard-crash and have to take a day to try and catch up on all the sleep I’d been missing, something “they” always say is impossible to do. Once your sleep is lost, it’s lost, man. Best you can do is try better in the future.

With the new school year fast approaching, I decided a change was in order. So, pretty much just like that, I started getting up at 5:00 a.m. And, just like that, it was a good thing. I had time to eat breakfast, do some reading, catch up on email, forums, blogs, and comics, and still get to work on time, even early many days. I was up before the sun, even when the sun was getting up earlier than normal (stupid DST *grumblemutterfume*).

There were other benefits, too, harder to define. Because I started putting some order into this area of my life, it seemed like other areas of my life started feeling more orderly. I felt better throughout the day, my thinking was more clear, I was organizing all of my time a little better, and I was being a more effective friend. Living on a schedule was helping me live more specifically.

There were a few downsides, of course, the main one being that I would get tired earlier in the evening. To get up at 5, I needed to be in bed somewhere between 9-9:15 p.m. Any later than that and it started getting difficult to get up at 5. Too many days of that in a row and it became almost impossible. The only solution was to go to bed at the right time. This meant forgoing “just one more level” on my latest game or that “one more episode of Seinfeld” while sitting on the couch. Just like anything worthwhile, it meant giving up something in the now for benefits in the future.

I kept at it very well for a few months – like most anything, a habit can be made of it. But, then, somewhere along the way, and for reasons I can’t specifically point out, it fell away. I’d stay up past 10 one night and then feel too sleepy to get out of bed until closer to 6 in the morning. Since I wasn’t resting well, I’d be sleepy during the day, but get a burst of energy in the evening and stay up late again. I’d be out with friends and not want to leave at 8:45 to get home in time to go to bed when I needed to. Little things kept creeping back in, and pretty soon I was back to living haphazardly, along with the malaise and the lack of will to go along with it.

One of my original intentions with getting up early was to eventually start exercising in the morning. I never got to that point, and I’m certainly not at that point these days with my late rising. Winter seems to make early rising more difficult – even those of us who aren’t “outdoors people” feel the difference that less sunlight in a day makes.

I know what I need to do, and I know it can be done – after all, I’ve done it before. I’m a firm believer that a person can change from being a “night person” to a “morning person” because I’ve done it a few times in my life. It takes effort, though, and that’s usually what stops a person – it’s what stops me from doing most of the things in my life that I ought to be doing.

I think it’s high time I get back to it. Regardless of the snowfall we had last night, I feel the ice is slowly melting. It feels like years since it’s been clear.

It’s all right. Or at least it will be.

I don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t recognize. I just don’t. I’m not alone in this, so don’t look at me like I’m some kind of freak. Voicemail was created for exactly this sort of situation: you leave a message letting a person know who you are. That’s just how it works. Like George Costanza said, “You know, we’re living in a society! We’re supposed to act in a civilized way!” Part of living in society is leaving voicemails.

That’s really not my main point, but it needed to be said.

Anyway, there is one exception I make. I have a friend who lives in a different state. He has an aversion to being named here, so I won’t tell you anything more about him except that he lives in the 419 area code, likes snakes, and one time played three recorders in front of a live audience (one in his mouth and one in each nostril).

I occasionally receive calls from him him from work. Since his workplace has several different phone lines, I don’t have them all in my cell phone under his name. Therefore, I don’t recognize the numbers. I do, however, recognize the 419 area code, so I’ll generally still pick up. It’s one of the perks of being a friend of mine for 20+ years (no, I’m still not telling you his name).

So the other night when my phone rings and it’s a 419 area code, I don’t hesitate to pick it up. I immediately say, “You’re lucky I recognize your area code or else I’d never answer the phone when you call.” This was somewhat confusing to the lady on the other end of the line, who was actually calling to get my opinions on the local political landscape (which I also felt was weird – why is someone from a completely different state calling to ask me about my local city government? And where did she get my number?).

It took a minute or two to straighten out the confusion, and by that time I felt she had earned my time, so I went ahead and answered her questions.

So now I’m faced with the fact that I have a very specific Kryptonite, and if my defenses are that easily overcome, what’s next? Will I start answering calls from any area code with those three numbers – 491, 941, 914? It’s a slippery slope and I’m more than a bit concerned.