There is some allure to staying up past the times deemed appropriate and well into those known as "too late" when one has to be at work doing noxious things in the particularly early AM, some awful draw that convinces one that actual life takes place after all well-meaning citizens have bedded down.
There's a feeling of superiority, a self-designated elitism that comes to one upon realization that too much caffeine has been taken to ever get to sleep now. More than a small dose of masochism laces this feeling, or perhaps it is sadism directed towards the day-time version of yourself. Here's a chance to make that simpering shade of the real you pay. He'll be late, barely functioning. The day will be an utter waste, and he will be even further behind. What control you have, what power over that hapless fool's fate.
And when you finally do wake, a light taste of that feeling lingers somewhere in the gaps where your wisdom teeth used to be. For a dull moment, before the shower and shave and drive and coffee, you will remember that life of quiet and strength.
Look on my posts, ye mighty, and despair.
2 comments:
I wished I'd have known it was ok to revel in the sadism of going to bed at 4am when I have to work the next day. :( Typically all I can do is think "shame! shame on me!" Normally the strong feelings are those of the real me hating the clown that was up too late fragging...
I have a real problem with this. Actually, of late, I have been good about getting to bed on time due to my need to finish this blasted thesis. Although "on time" can mean anything between 10 and 1.
There's something to said about living in the moment. I'm just not sure what that something is. There are many more moments to be had tomorrow. And sitting in my boxers, alone, playing Battle for Wesnoth can hardly be considered living.
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