I am a night owl. Always have been.
Living a simple life seems to carry a lot of emotionally embarrassing baggage. It is my experience that those who truly live a simple life seem to be so judgmental about the daily habits of what that entails. And, I can never decide if sharing my thoughts about such aspects of how a life is going along is simple observation or judgment in itself. I mean, how does one separate the two, or is it even possible to do so? I just do not know about that aspect, but I do know that I can never figure that out. Maybe it has something to do with those who husband animals and large-ish crops and have so much responsibility every day.
Anyway, I offered extra time to a client yesterday and we are meeting at the Library at nine o'clock this morning. I could have slept in for another hour or so, but us night owls need lots of preparation time for early in the day stuff. I have been up for more than an hour and am finally able to do more than sit and try to stay awake.
A nap later in the day would help, but that is another embarrassing thing to do, much less admit to doing, although I will likely partake of that guilty pleasure anyway, even though I have tons of unfinished stuff around here. I have not even reached that part of today and am already manifesting my inner slacker. And, feeling guilty about it, too boot.
I have always wanted to be a morning person. On the few occasions when I am up early enough to see the day begin, sunrise and all that jazz, I love it. In the moment, I love it, but I guess not enough to make it a regular enough practice so that it seems more natural to me.
I have always been intrigued with circadian rhythm experiments and thought that I would like to participate in one. I wish that I had a life that allowed me to find my own rhythms, on my own. I kind of worry that I would discover that I am a true child of the night, that my nature is to sleep all day long and arise only near dusk. Maybe I would have to live a life more alone than the one I now have. Maybe my only human contact would be other owls when I go out for provisions from the 24-hour gas station convenience stores, silently wandering the two or three aisles of cereals, canned soups, snack foods and motor oil and those dangle-y, evergreen-tree-shaped auto air fresheners.
Maybe I need to find other children of the night. I wonder where they hang out. I cannot even think of any all-night places, so maybe they just congregate in the park or the parking lot at the mall or the cemeteries. Or, where?
Or, maybe I live in the wrong latitude and should have been born (or move to) another hemisphere. Maybe I am the classic lost zygote.
I am either not living according to my natural needs or I am emotionally or intellectually fighting against my own best interests in my struggles to avoid the dawn. I guess that after more than six decades of messing around with this that I should have come to some, oh, I do not know, perhaps some kind of uneasy, but doable, peace about this.
Well, I had better finish my breakfast, and get ready for the day. Lordy.