all that is gold does not glitter
not all those who wander are lost
~J.R.R.Tolkein
Yes, I’m back to blogging in the middle of the night. Although, it’s 6:30am – can that really count? Let’s say it does because it's still dark. You know how drunk dials are bad because you usually end up saying something true and embarrassing? Middle-of-the-night blogging is like that, even without alcohol.
I’m vaguely unemployed again, so I’ve reverted back to my natural schedule of sleeping all day and hanging out on the internets all night. Perez Hilton is a good place to go. As is Twitter. There are all sorts of interesting things to do on the internet at four in the morning. I reorganized my bookshelf the other night. Nothing says “I don’t know what I’m doing with my life” like putting dvds in their proper cases.
Except, I do know what I’m doing with my life. I like being up at this time while everyone’s asleep. I am looking for a job, and I’m in school, so technically I can say “I’m a student” instead of “unemployed” (which just sounds awful – like I have a five o’clock shadow and mismatched slippers). Oh! And I’m doing really well on my book-a-week resolution for 2011. I’m at nine books so far, and we’ve only been through six and a half weeks.
I admit – I’ve consumed zero Mai Tais this year. But the year is young! Surely if time gets short, I can make it up on New Year’s Eve…
The downside of this particular stint of unemployment/fooling around with life – is the sun.
My parents owned this magical house for a number of years. They sold it in 2008, and I admit I haven’t quite gotten over it. It was the perfect house for hanging out, dreaming, and running around naked in the backyard (not that we ever did that). It had some beautiful suns. The kitchen had a breakfast nook with glass on three sides. There was always sun in there. Countless sunsets were enjoyed around that table. The other sun was the dawn, which is the best part of consciousness at 6am.
The park on the next block was set between my house and my friend’s house. In high school in the summers, we would hang out until dawn – sometimes reading – and then I’d walk home. I usually stopped at the park and walked around in the mist. No one is ever around in suburbia at that time. There was a set of swings that overlooked some houses and gardens, but it also had a great view of the eastern sky. I could sit there and watch the colours of the sunrise and read once the sun came up. My relationship with the dawn began in that park. I say the house was magical because it really was.
Side note: That house was also the location of the jello party – need I say more?
After they sold the house I moved downtown where I also saw a lot of dawns. I worked at a bar, so often I was up at that time just because I came home from work and took the time to check my email before going to sleep. Those were beautiful dawns as well because I could see trees and two castles from my apartment balcony. There was an aqua glass apartment building across the street, and the glass caught every colour of the rainbow.
Now I live in a different city where there are no castles in sight. My apartment is a great location; it’s close to the subway, grocery stores, nightclubs, and friends. It's also the home of my muscular travel companion, which is a bonus. The view from the balcony leaves everything to be desired; it's nothing but rooftops and concrete buildings. Literally. And even if I left the apartment at this hour, there would be no where to go. One does not wander through parks at dawn in big cities, not that there are any parks close by. One can wander in suburbia. I wish it wasn’t like this. I love city-living.
I miss dawn and I miss colours. I miss walking on the grass. I miss seeing grass. This isn’t just city. This is winter. God, I hate winter. Even as I write this at 6:32, I can’t see any light through the blinds.
So clearly I like my time alone at night for other reasons. Staying up this late in the winter is truly not for the weak. There’s no dawn or birds, or castles or water. There are no Mai Tais or the security of simply being a high school student on summer vacation in her parents’ house. Life is hard. There is unemployment and concrete and darkness. There is no sign of thaw.
Even so, life is good – maybe I’ll go get a Mai Tai one of these days – and it’ll be better in the spring.
