Sunday, February 21, 2010

In the Night

Do you know that everyone who lives in Colorado is a morning person?

I'm convinced that I'm the only person in the shadow of the Rockies who delights in the night and who has perfected the art of rolling back over when the sun begins to push in through my eyelashes.
I drove home tonight singing Brandi Carlile at the top of my lungs

The first sign of morning is gray and alarming
It's so disappointing the day has come so soon
While the rest of the world greets the day and feels new
I will push it away just like I always do, I will be
Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming,
Your real world away

Only beautiful, beautiful bright eyes lie,
Only beautiful, beautiful bright eyes cry,
Singin' late morning lullaby
Late morning lullaby

I would darken my window so I can fall asleep
While the critics frown down on the hours I keep
That leave me
Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming,
Your real world away.

Brandi's got it about right. My darling roommate, tenacious and cheerful, awakes, voluntarily, at 7am every morning. She's off like a rocket, going to the gym, or going to the library, or finding some other productive means of conquering the world.
And she's in bed by 9 most nights.
Whereas I, though possibly stirring before the noontime hour, have a brain that will not function before the digital clock reads "pm". Minor witticisms kick in around 3pm, about the time the sun hits its zenith. Clever arguments and correlations begin to shimmer around dusk. Major circular arguments and triple entendre show their charming faces when the sun has gone to bed. And when the moon, however brilliant she's feeling, assumes her throne high above my head, that is when the world is alive for me. That is when miracles are possible, and everything is beautiful, and love is not so far away. The Night is my Day.
And so I don't go to bed until 2am. And I think this is a self-perpetuating affliction.
But wait 'till the night has fallen like a black velvet curtain, wait 'till the snowflake swirl down like a glittering mist in the lamplight, wait 'till the boughs hang heavy with white and the glow off the snow makes an eerie wonderland of your bedroom wall, and then play this:

And then tell me you don't believe that night, after all, is the best time of day.
photos: - thepicklebotinteriors - awake, ThePrincessBlog, Google image - LivebytheSunLovebytheMoon, ShanyaAmaras An attempt to send some sun your way, LCTGloriosity Colorado 2009,

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