I love staying up late. I can’t help it; I just do. For some inexplicable reason, I always feel most productive, most inspired to do those things I always dream of, at night. And not just when it’s dark. Actually, when the sun first goes down I feel bummed, and utterly incapable of accomplishing most things. But give it four or five hours, when I’ve passed lethargic and sleepy, and I’m suddenly ready to get shit done. I might have been tired all day, and ready to sleep since 8, but if I’m up after midnight, I won’t be able to lay down. All the things on my to do list, all the things that are so constant and too depressing to be on my to do list because I never do them, come flooding forth, and it’s time. Only, I’m tired. Things can’t be done fully this late at night, and I’m not one to start projects, put them down, and come back to them. I need to have a marathon and do it all at once, or not at all.
I bet mornings would be great for me; I know they would, I just can’t wrench myself away from my dreams. I know it’s a terrible cycle. I know if I got more sleep, went to bed earlier, getting up at a reasonable morning hour would be more realizable. I know. I just can’t seem to do it.
But daylight. Being awake early seems even more necessary now that it’s dark at 5. Literally. Four hours of daylight on days I’m not working just isn’t okay. I could envision myself in some alternate universe: getting up in the actual morning, drinking tea, having time to read, lounge around the living room, work on projects before it’s time to do the things I need to do. Time to myself. Time to myself! As it is now, I wake up when I need to – for work or social engagements, and am fucking going all day doing lord knows what, coming home or finding myself actually being done with whatever well after midnight. Maybe I feel so inclined to do things at night because it’s the first time in any given day that I am alone, or letting my brain slow down enough to think its own thoughts.
Dang, ok. We’re getting to it: the same conclusion I draw every time. Not taking time for myself, slowing down, taking care of myself. Going and going going going going going going. Thanks, Grandma, for the FOMO gene. My eternal fear of missing out gets the best of me every time. But I like saying yes, I like my friends and having fun with them, and every time I do it is worth it. I just need to find a balance, I guess. A way to do both.
I could see mornings lending themselves a lot more to time to oneself, since social shit is always later in the day. Okay, that’s compelling. Having a daytime to myself in addition to an evening of friends sounds pretty ideal. Given, I’ll have to make myself go to bed and lose my precious hours of delirium. I do think it’s useful. I lose a lot of insecurity once it’s late and the crazies set in. But maybe I can figure that out during the day too. Then my oh shit, but you might fail brain kicks in. Fuck you, fail brain, I probably won’t fail at doing what most people do every day. I never have been good at establishing routines, but, honestly, I’ve never tried very hard. Or at all. At most things. Time to try, I guess.
