Morning and Night by Devon

Morning and Night by Devon - January 2019 Scholarship Essay

I am guilty of “burning the wick at both ends.” I am a relatively early riser considering how late I like to stay up. My body-clock is mildly strict; it won’t let me sleep past eight. I am most productive in the mornings, but only when I work in the mornings. Usually I like to laze around, gently, slowly crossing items off my to-do list, waiting for the afternoon. (The afternoon and evenings strike me as the times for productivity.) When I put my mind to it, I work diligently, “rockin’ it,” as my mother would say. I prefer to be productive in other ways, pasting things into my journal or reshelving my books for the thirtieth time. My days are really only preparations for my nights, in any case.
I love nighttime. I love staying up later than everyone else. I love my eyes being wide open while my dogs’ eyes are closed, their little tummies rising with their sleepy breaths. I like to have my lamp dousing only part of my room with warm light. Soft music plays from a speaker, the Beatles crooning to me as I read or journal. Two to four am are my favourite hours. Past then, there are productive people waking; at five the world rolls over slightly and begins the waking process. But three am? That’s the hour that only the dreamers, the insomniacs, the troubled or the euphoric, the peaceful or the anxious are awake. It is the hour of contradictions; I love contradictions. Human beings are contradictions and that hour more than any other proves it.
I try to only be productive at that time when I need to be; I prefer to be awake than working at three.