If you know me at all, then the odds are quite high that you’ve teased me about my odd sleeping habits. I certainly share in these laughs, because I know that I am not exactly normal in this regard.
But I certainly don’t place a lot of value in being “normal.” You probably know that, too.
Often, though, my tendency is stay up late at night is completely misunderstood. There are many of you that likely think I’m a horrible morning person, which isn’t true. I am never grumpy or angry in the morning, although I wouldn’t advise crashing into my bedroom at 6:00 a.m. It’s not that I have trouble sleeping, which my college professors can readily attest to. Nor do I have a creepy internet side business that I have to hide from the world (you’ll just have to take my word for this one). I think we’re all wired differently, and I just happened to be wired for the end of my day as opposed to the beginning of it.
As I write this post, it’s 12:51 a.m. The far majority of the east coast is fast asleep, hurtling unconsciously toward another work day. I am not. Perhaps the part of myself that I treasure most is the creative side, and that side—like a vampire in the night—loves to come out when the moon is high over the world below. It can be summoned at other times, but it never comes as willingly as it does now.
What does this mean? I honestly don’t know. But the late evening is the best time to watch thought-provoking movies or TV shows, their images drifting through my mind as it fades away to sleep. It is the time when all things seem possible: that if you look hard enough, in between the lines, there just might be a trace of magic in the night air. When the next day comes, with its strikingly bright sun, these things seem silly and foolish to everyone—certainly to me as well.
But I think that within many of us, there still exists a child that hasn’t been completely defeated by the realities of the world around us. A child that reads the adventures of Harry Potter and still thinks that there’s a slight chance that this world isn’t immune to such things. Of course, using the ever-present rational mind, no one actually believes this. I certainly don’t.
Sitting here, however, with the clock striking one, I inevitably start to wonder. I think about all of the things in the world that still remain unexplained, and I think that it would be far too egotistical to believe that we know everything there is to know. And I think that maybe–just maybe–there’s something there worth holding onto.
At least for one more hour.