Night Owl


Some people get up at 5am.
Part of me likes the idea of this, but, ultimately, it just doesn’t agree with me.

I like the night.
It’s quiet…and peaceful.
The world is asleep, and nobody’s causing problems.

The early riser joins the people that wake up and think about what kind of trouble they can create…
or contribute to…
or at least perpetuate…

It’s kind of like the world doesn’t exist at night.
It’s a time out.
People are chilling the fuck out.

But then people wake up and they don’t know what else to do with themselves except cause some problems.
Washington D.C. is alive.
The stock market is alive.
The film industry is alive.
Nine to fives are alive!
Phone calls!
Fax Machines!
Voice mails!
Meetings!
Email alerts!
Noise! Noise! Noise!!!

Maybe it’s because they don’t know what ELSE to do.
They don’t know the meaning of life, why they’re here.
I don’t blame them.

But I prefer to be the night owl.
The night is like a separate reality, a world that’s quiet and calm and peaceful, a world I prefer to be a part of.

The day is loud and drains me and causes all sorts of discomfort.
There’s a lot of traffic.
And exhaust in the air.
It’s louder.
And so many more problems.

I will always prefer to be the night owl.
If I sleep while that noisy reality plays itself out, it’s like it doesn’t exist.
And while I’m awake there is nothing but quiet, calm, and peace.
That’s the reality I prefer to believe exists.

 


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