Midnight.?

Midnight.

I've had trouble sleeping since my early teens. I think that's when I cultivated my obsession with movies; the type of obsession that goes beyond a mere Netflix subscription. I'd try to sleep; maybe I'd doze a bit or just lay there reading and hoping my eyes would tire. Most nights I'd be up by 2am, tip-toeing down the side of the steps where they didn't creak so much, igniting the wall heater and hoping it would catch the first time because the clicks it made were so loud, and settling in with a fuzzy blanket to watch whatever HBO had on offer. Often I'd be joining my still awake father or he'd end up coming downstairs after his own fitful Zs and watching another low budget vampire movie with me.

So it comes as no surprise that I still have trouble sleeping. Unless I'm physically or mentally exhausted to the point of collapse, I just can't do it like other people. I like naps though. One can see how napping could lead to poor nighttime sleeping but I like to think it's just an odd thing that carried over from childhood. Show me a comfy couch with pillows and blankies* under an open window that has a soft breeze carrying the scent of the earth and I'm in heaven. Make it rain outside that window and I'm out like a light; a happy, contented and comfy light.

But back to midnight. I write this blog at night, usually after midnight. It's the quietest time in the house. It's not quiet in my head. So I'm hoping that maybe getting some of these thoughts out there will help me sleep better. The irony is that I've gotten maybe 6 hours of sleep in the last 50 hours or so. I got zero sleep the night before last. I assumed last night I'd catch up. No chance. The power went out for 2500 residents around 5am. The thing is, it was LOUD. Everything sucking juice in your home gets disabled at once and apparently it's enough to scare you out of deep sleep. (That's where I'd like to think I was.) Get to sleep at 3am and jump at 5 and you'll be off your game. I was oddly awake for most of the day, save for a 2 hour nap in the late afternoon. I'm not sure who's fault that one is though. The fiance was playing a car racing video game and the hum of the pixelated engines almost always knocks me out.

The kicker is I am most productive in the early morning hours. I'm more creative, more determined, more energized and I complete more chores and projects. A doctor told me my circadian rhythm was mixed up. I am technically a natural night owl. But that doesn't work for life, does it? I do enjoy getting up at a normal hour and having the day to do things. I get so much done and it makes me feel more productive than a day I get up at noon (or later) and rush to finish whatever needs to get done.

Midnight. Part journal, part tool and part editorial. That's what I think I'm going to use this space as. That could change anytime as it's much too early to truly call. But the journaling - the first 3 entries so far - they're all rough drafts and flow of consciousness. I know I can put sentences together far better that what's here so far, but I'll save that for a more formal piece. Hopefully, the two can grow closer as I grow as a writer. I should be able to put together intricate, interesting and grammatically correct sentences without too much forethought at this point anyway. But I took that long break from writing. Years. I think because the last time I bared my soul I got hurt. I was also interested in things that my writing might mean outside of itself rather than just the writing. That was vague, I suppose. But we'll leave it like for now.

So, midnight. There it is, jumbled and mostly a lower quality standard than I expect from myself. We all have off nights. Maybe we even all have days where we've not had any sort of solid night's sleep in 2 nights. Let's just wrap it there and hope this is more cogent, compelling and captivating next time.

It's 4:56 am. Past midnight. Way past. I hope I get some sleep today. I really do.

*Disclosure: Despite the fact that I previously used the word "blanket" in it's correct form, I feel I must be true to myself. I call them blankies. To everyone. I love to cuddle with soft, warm, poofy blankies. I buy my cat the softest real baby blankies I can find. She likes to cuddle with them too. She has over a dozen. She gets them for Christmas and not just from me.