Remember those action-packed TV commercials advertising breakfast foods back when we were younger? Whether they were pushing toaster waffles or some sugary cereal, they all had the same mantra: “part of a complete breakfast,” conjuring up images of a hearty three-course meal. Maybe I don’t notice these ads anymore because I don’t really watch television and am no longer susceptible to the whimsical powers of Snap, Crackle and Pop, but I feel as if that mantra doesn’t hold up nowadays anyway.

Most of us don’t have time for “complete.” Even a bowl of cereal has become a luxury in itself; the once convenient breakfast grain has been sucked dry of its milk and compressed into bite-able bars. Unfortunately, “part of a convenient breakfast” just doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

Has breakfasting become a dying art? Whether or not breakfast is the most important meal of the day, it has certainly become the most expendable. It’s rare that you see people arguing over the merits of dinner.

Because I have enjoyed eating breakfast pretty much every day of my life, I am always slightly aghast when I learn that many people don’t break the fast until lunchtime. I understand that for some, eating after waking up can cause a feeling akin to morning sickness. And that others have never eaten breakfast and find it unnecessary. But for a good majority of people (students or not), the issue of not eating in the morning is directly correlated to a lack of time. And that worries me.

As college students, we live in the kind of culture where breakfast fare is more likely to be eaten at night than in the morning. Late night escapades to greasy-spoon diners for a breakfast burrito, downing bowls of frosted flakes for dinner when nothing else looks edible at the dining hall, preparing an omelet for a midnight snack in open kitchens. Even the Axe & Palm’s newly arrived crepes aren’t offered until the hours of 6 p.m. and 2 a.m.

Every morning we can make a bargain with our body. I’ll give you sleep instead of food if you don’t fail on me, ok? We are all aware of breakfast’s nutritional value in fueling our brains, preventing us from consuming more calories throughout the day, helping us maintain a good weight yadda yadda health jargon. But we are tired.

Regardless of its nutritional value, eating breakfast can lend itself to a certain kind of ritual experience that might be just as important — if not more so — than the fuel it provides. And that’s what we deprive ourselves of when we choose to blaze through the day without stopping first.

On many mornings last year, my roommate and I would curl up on our lumpy couch, precariously balancing a bowl of Special K on our legs as we hunched over our laptops. While we slurped away at our soymilk-soaked cereal, we didn’t even exchange many words — I am a morning person and she is not — yet there was something comforting about starting every day together over a shared meal.

After eating breakfast alone at the beginning of this year in my single, I later ventured into the dining hall in search of friendly faces and discovered another sort of morning camaraderie. I became a part of the breakfast crew. Our bleary-eyed banter begets a bond that doesn’t occur during other meals of the day.

Clad in plaid PJ pants or ratty robes with hair akimbo, we are wrapped in the uninhibited intimacy of the morning. It is far too early to put effort into filtering conversation. If someone makes several bad puns, we will all let it go. We may even giggle uncontrollably for a minute.

There is an interesting sort of accountability in eating with the same people every morning. If someone’s missing, you notice. On some days, I can only abstain from hitting my life-giving snooze button again because of my breakfasting friends — I wouldn’t want to be marked absent or miss another conversation on just how much Family Circus sucks.

It’s that slowed-down, ritual aspect of the morning that also makes me question the satisfaction of a grab-and-go kind of breakfast. Granted, eating something is better than eating nothing, regardless of whether it’s an Egg McMuffin (ew) or a hemp seed granola bar (ew again). I’m not trying to champion the nuclear family with a pert mom whipping up pancakes on the griddle, but to me, there’s something slightly depressing about chucking a Nutri-Grain bar at a kid before sending him or her off to school. Or brainfreezing yourself with a Jamba Juice fix in the hurried minutes before class. The world wants me to move faster than I can go. Eating breakfast is my way of stopping the motion, even if just for half an hour.

And so, dear reader, if you normally wake up five minutes before you bike to lecture, I urge you try breakfasting just once in the near future. Wake up earlier for yourself, not for class. Start the day off slowly. Savor what’s ahead of you, as overwhelming as it may be. Make friends with an early bird. You might even catch a worm or two.

Thank you for allowing Natalie Jabbar to be part of your complete breakfast (or lunch or dinner). If you’d like a decoder ring, send her a self-addressed envelope, three proofs of reading and $5.95 for shipping and handling to njabbar@stanford.edu.