Night-time Thoughts
It is 10:47pm on a Monday night. I am exhausted, have had an incredibly odd, wonderful and eventful day and despite all that, the usual urge to write has hit me at this highly inconvenient hour. This is in no way going to be an interesting post, as it is not a story and quite self-focused, but I had to document this moment, nonetheless.
My parents tease me about the fact that I am not very productive in the morning. I've had friends in college who would go to sleep early so they could wake up early and finish their looming project or homework assignment. I never understood that method. First of all, I barely think clearly enough to stumble to the bathroom when I wake up, let alone write a paper or do math problems. Besides that, it appears to me that going to sleep with the prospect of waking up early to do homework is akin to self-torture. If it were me, I would have trouble falling asleep knowing I have this "thing" waiting for me when I wake up, at an earlier time than normal no less. Most likely, even if I could fall asleep, my dreams would be haunted by that lingering project. I would have nightmares all night of going to class without the assignment finished. Even if I realized it was only a dream, the reality that I still had the project waiting for me in the morning would be just as distressing. Either that, or I would be so worried about sleeping through my alarm and therefore not having time to work on the assignment, that I would wake up multiple times at night sure that I heard the alarm go off!
All that to say, I like my sleep and I am a night owl. It is when the world is quiet and dark, when the day is ending, that my mind is most active. So, here I am, writing this pointless piece about how I am inspired to write when I "should" be sleeping.
Sometimes I wonder if I got into the habit because I am a part of a large, noisy family who tend to greet the day ealier than I care to experience it. My dad has always woken around four or five in the morning, pittering about the kitchen cooking his strange breakfast concoctions, making coffee, reading. He is usually at work for two or three hours before I even wake up. My mom is one of those unusual people who can "just wake up" before dawn, and, who sometimes greets sleeping individuals a little too loudly and cheerfully at 7am, insisting that it is late, and "The day is almost over!" This is also the person who fizzles out and is sleeping peacefully by 9pm.
This is not to give the impression that I can't and won't wake up early. Over the summer, I worked at the UA farm doing heavy, manual labor by 6am. I can admit the merits of seeing the sunrise and hearing the chorus of chirping, morning birdies. I still prefer my natural habits.
The fact that I come from a big family, may contibute to my love for the later hours. Our house is always filled with at least four or five people chattering, the occasional arguments, music, laughter, little brother and his friends playing, phone conversations, dog barking, the drone of the television at night, the... Well, you get the idea. At night, though, after around 9:30, the house is so quiet! This is when I am most productive. I once reorganized my family's entire back room, huge, heavy furniture and all, by myself until 4am. (That late hour is very rare, though. I normally lose all cognitive powers by midnight at best.) I clean my room at night before bed. I read, do homework, write stories, do the dishes, pray, read my Bible, catch up on emails, write in my journal (apparently post on my blog) between the hours of 8:30 and 11:30 at night. Even though my eyelids are drooping at this moment and my pillow is calling my name, the urge to create, be productive, enjoy the silence and solitude for a little longer is overwhelmingly strong!
Now it is 11:46. My mind is dimming and my body is begging me to give it rest, or else! It is time for bed.
My parents tease me about the fact that I am not very productive in the morning. I've had friends in college who would go to sleep early so they could wake up early and finish their looming project or homework assignment. I never understood that method. First of all, I barely think clearly enough to stumble to the bathroom when I wake up, let alone write a paper or do math problems. Besides that, it appears to me that going to sleep with the prospect of waking up early to do homework is akin to self-torture. If it were me, I would have trouble falling asleep knowing I have this "thing" waiting for me when I wake up, at an earlier time than normal no less. Most likely, even if I could fall asleep, my dreams would be haunted by that lingering project. I would have nightmares all night of going to class without the assignment finished. Even if I realized it was only a dream, the reality that I still had the project waiting for me in the morning would be just as distressing. Either that, or I would be so worried about sleeping through my alarm and therefore not having time to work on the assignment, that I would wake up multiple times at night sure that I heard the alarm go off!
All that to say, I like my sleep and I am a night owl. It is when the world is quiet and dark, when the day is ending, that my mind is most active. So, here I am, writing this pointless piece about how I am inspired to write when I "should" be sleeping.
Sometimes I wonder if I got into the habit because I am a part of a large, noisy family who tend to greet the day ealier than I care to experience it. My dad has always woken around four or five in the morning, pittering about the kitchen cooking his strange breakfast concoctions, making coffee, reading. He is usually at work for two or three hours before I even wake up. My mom is one of those unusual people who can "just wake up" before dawn, and, who sometimes greets sleeping individuals a little too loudly and cheerfully at 7am, insisting that it is late, and "The day is almost over!" This is also the person who fizzles out and is sleeping peacefully by 9pm.
This is not to give the impression that I can't and won't wake up early. Over the summer, I worked at the UA farm doing heavy, manual labor by 6am. I can admit the merits of seeing the sunrise and hearing the chorus of chirping, morning birdies. I still prefer my natural habits.
The fact that I come from a big family, may contibute to my love for the later hours. Our house is always filled with at least four or five people chattering, the occasional arguments, music, laughter, little brother and his friends playing, phone conversations, dog barking, the drone of the television at night, the... Well, you get the idea. At night, though, after around 9:30, the house is so quiet! This is when I am most productive. I once reorganized my family's entire back room, huge, heavy furniture and all, by myself until 4am. (That late hour is very rare, though. I normally lose all cognitive powers by midnight at best.) I clean my room at night before bed. I read, do homework, write stories, do the dishes, pray, read my Bible, catch up on emails, write in my journal (apparently post on my blog) between the hours of 8:30 and 11:30 at night. Even though my eyelids are drooping at this moment and my pillow is calling my name, the urge to create, be productive, enjoy the silence and solitude for a little longer is overwhelmingly strong!
Now it is 11:46. My mind is dimming and my body is begging me to give it rest, or else! It is time for bed.
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