I have no idea why I like the night as much as I do. I’ve liked it ever since I was very young – I taught myself to read when I was barely older than a toddler, I do most of my real writing at night, and I do the vast amount of my thinking at night. So that makes sense that I’d enjoy the night, right? Well, yes and no.
Yes, for the reasons briefly stated above. Plus, I love the still of the night, the peace and quiet, the tranquility. I’m born to work late, as this is when I’m my clearest, but will give it up in order to be home with my Tara every night. That decision I will leave for another post. But I also love the aspect of night because no one’s judging you. No one’s interested in the busyness in their lives, or the sharpness of it, for the most part, because many of our lives allow us to only do such things during the day. Normal business hours. Hours of operation. Hours where our minds are bred to give and take parallel to the sun. I’m the opposite; I get by during the day, and as plans go into the night, I wake up. It’s like a constant second wind every day; if I stay up long enough, I’m extremely quick, at ease, and focused. I suppose I join most of the writers of the world that way. I think any writer who does his best work in the morning either writes light work, or is the wrong side of crazy.
I don’t like the night, because once in awhile, when completely left alone for several hours into the night, my mood changes drastically. I get moody, or emotional, or vulnerable. I even get a bit anti-social; if someone were to start engaging with me after I’m left alone in this situation – only once in awhile, mind you – I’d likely be rude and short with them. In that sense I know if I ever did work late at night – which I would fight to do with everything I’ve got because I want to come home to my Tara – it would have to be a more social job. If I were a security guard in a lonely office building, or a patrolman, or the like, I’d probably be a grouchy one. Tonight was one of these nights – the grouchiness actually passed tonight – but it happened for a good few hours. It’s the biggest negative on my company of the night, but I’m a very self-controlled guy who doesn’t let such moods in all that often. Just sometimes they manage to slip by now and then.
When I get down and out on those few nights, I always figured it’s because I’m a social creature of habit. Those who have me as a friend know I cherish and worship you. Between them and Tara, they’ve filled the hole left my certain family of mine as well as any group ever could. Yet I need a lot of alone time to keep myself happy and optimistic. As someone who loves reading people, I get a lot of work out of myself. But then, we all do; it’s not psychologically or sociologically unintelligent to make such hard work out of ourselves, it’s human nature. A phenomenon of who we are as people; we’re all so self-centered and caught up in our own twists and turns, that we can hardly read ourselves most of the time. But I’ll leave that to another post as well.
Few people even know about these once-in-awhile nights where my mood changes heavily – and unless you’ve had a late-night conversation with me where I get to be a pain in the ass, you never would – but this is another case of me opening myself up. It’s always easier to be the second, third or fourth person to speak up – let me be the first to dissect my inner-psyche for you, and any quirks or habits I come across of myself. This blog will certainly not be limited to that, but that’s the seed I have planted.
Because the night belongs not only to lovers, but to the erratic, the geniuses, and the writers who don’t know when else to write.