For too many years, those who stay up late were derided as slackers. But oh, how the tables have turned. Thanks, science!
If you are reading this, you are a heathen. Sorry. It’s not me saying it. I’m not prejudiced, it’s science that says so. Apparently early morning people, which I’m labelling as “Dawnies” (science, remember), are less creative, less progressive and less awake to the possibilities of life.
Don’t hate, because the evidence indicates. Study A, authored by (the fantastically monikered) scientist Satoshi Kanazawa, concluded that the nocturnal of us fight our genetic programming, hammered into us by eons of repetition.
Up early, spread mud on your face, bed, repeat.
Thereby, those who forgo this ritual see things differently, and are keener to tear down the status quo in the name of creativity.
Study B was performed the Smithsonian. Yeah, the Smithsonian. (Sorry.) The boffins of that peerless American Institution have analysed the circadian rhythms of a thousand teenagers, concluding that the “Nightie’s” superior inductive reasoning was the sprout on the root of the tree of future knowledge.
I grant that science has built the temporary soapbox I stand on, but darn it, I’m going to waffle, with meaning. Morning, imma let you finish…but I need to speak on behalf of my people, the snoring majority, those who have had it up to the furthest of tolerable heres. You’re a chipper bunch, and we love that. But you know…after coffee. Saying that, you can be a judgemental lot. We’ve had to endure your Disneynian gung-ho mantras of “up and at ‘em” or “the early bird gets the worm” for far too long.
Why? Is it because you’re up? Is that it?
By all means, feel free to slander my Facebook page, but do so realising that you won’t receive a cogent rebuttal until at 2pm. On a personal level, I don’t agree with the assertions of the study (I do) but the findings also represent an important bailout. I feared that my cranium was faulty, and the fugue in which I walked in the bright morning hours worried me.
My best hours have always been 9pm-4am. I tried to change my ways – you know to be normal – so, I tried to ramshackle my evening process into morning light. I repeatedly gave myself to the arms of my oldest mistress, the coffee bean, and filled the space between my ears with only the dopest of west-coast hip-hop fare.
The reprogramming didn’t take. Coffee somehow made me ill, and Dr Dre’s negative musings on monogamist unions came off as disrespectful.
I tried, but the creative result of my experiment was complete scribbled rubbish, which “evening me” had to fix. Whole evenings were flamed as a result. I only had myself to blame, but I know that it also wasn’t me. That guy just wears my clothes. This owl tried to change its spots, but in retrospect, I shouldn’t have given a hoot.
But, before you claim bias. Know this: I’ve loved, worked and slept with a wide cross-section of you people. I’ve always suspected you were a separate species. Beautiful in your own way – in that way where something you don’t understand has its own magic. Side note: to those who have endured me in the morning hours, I apologise for my behaviour. I may have been unreasonable in my response. However, if you love someone, let them sleep.
I’m not anti-morning. There are many things about it I enjoy. The smell of breakfast, that fragile pre-dawn bubble, the dark canvas above slowly painted by vast brushstrokes of colour. Beautiful things to witness.
But I’d never get up to see them.
So next time you see one of us “still asleep” before you slip into familiar behaviour – try to appreciate who we are. Know that we’re no better or worse, we’re just different.
While our kind refuses to seize the day, we seize what you leave.
We are the night. Good morning.