I never anticipated waking up every day at 6 a.m. to Atoyia Scott’s alarm clock. No, she’s not a 47-year-old man, she’s a basketball player. As a result, she is required to make 6:30 a.m. practices three days a week and another two afternoon practices on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

This has been going on since August – she is my roommate.

While I spend another two hours trying to fall back asleep before even thinking about going to my 9:30 a.m. math class, she and her teammates have killed themselves in the gym – drilling, scrimmaging and lifting weights.

Then, she attends her classes, sore and tired, and manages to find time to study and squeeze in basic necessities like eating and sleeping. Plus, I’m pretty sure she gets better grades than me.

It’s these kinds of people that make most college students look like lazy idiots.

So, when I return to my dorm after three hours of doodling in my notebook’s margins, she has accomplished more in half the day than I will in its entirety.

She’s probably a robot – though she does require a solid 90-minute nap everyday between her afternoon classes, and no robot would waste that much time.

At first, it was awkward being in the dorm when she recharges – I mean, sleeps.

Empathizing with her demanding schedule meant taking every precaution like using headphones, stifling coughs and closing drawers only halfway to not make any annoying squeaks.

Thankfully, the girl could sleep through the Normandy invasion, so now I rustle my papers and eat my granola bars without guile.

Maybe she turns her receptors off; I don’t know, I’m no engineer.

When she wakes up, I’m usually doing nothing, and when I ask where she’s off to, it’s either the gym to go practice shooting, or to the Communications/Music Complex to practice piano.

This is an appropriate time to mention that she’s also a music performance major and a ridiculously gifted pianist.

It took me a month to realize this, because I honestly couldn’t comprehend how someone who spends four hours a day practicing a sport could also dedicate so much time to practicing and majoring in music performance.

And I can tell you, from observing her casually tickling the ivories in the Danna Center, that she is both a naturally gifted and well-studied musician.

And class president in her high school.

And Homecoming Queen in high school.

I give up, Atoyia. Is that what you wanted me to say? Is that what this is all about? Fine. Seriously, you win.

Her team’s actually won only one game in a tough preseason – I’ve offered my whole-hearted sympathies, but when anyone is as overly achieving as my roommate, struggles are just constant reminders of how much harder to push herself.

Keeping all that she does in mind, I could still try to fault her for being mean, egotistical, or anti-social – telling character flaws of a Type-A, Tracy Flick personality. Alas, she is a thoroughly gorgeous human being, and from what I can tell by the cell phone hermetically sealed to her face, a supportive and loyal friend.

She’s also a devout Baptist who played organ for her church in Baton Rouge and is a member of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Her abstinence of using profanity has even begun to curb my own nautical habits, at least in her presence.

Then again, as I stumble in at 4 a.m., trying not to disturb her desperately needed sleep, feeling like a lazy, untalented sinner, I am convinced that – if nothing else – I could definitely put her under the table.

Nicole Mundy can be reached at [email protected].