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By Connor Maki
The clock just turned to 6:55 AM. I have been up for approximately three hours and forty minutes—I think. I went to bed at midnight. At 11:00 AM I have a meeting with a professor to discuss a paper. I’ve been stuck on this paper for weeks. It is one of the torrential drips of water in my bucket. The bucket is heavy. It pulls on the bags under my eyes.
When I wake up at night, I have several strategies. On a good night, I roll over and fall asleep. The nights I wake up restless are many. The nights of rollover sleep are rare, like a precious gem, or true love. Most nights I lay there, I pet my cat, and soon her soft purr lulls me to sleep. The damage has been done, and the break in my cycle will no doubt be felt at noon.
Other nights I pick up whatever book is on my nightstand. Last week it was Jon Krakauer’s Into the Wild. This week it is Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. This is not my favorite method. I often forget what it is I read to relieve my mind and end up rereading—terribly and ironically inefficient.
On my weak nights, which are often the week nights, I fall into a trap. I grab my phone and watch whatever show has me captured. This was tonight’s method. I watched Seinfeld. Damn that Jerry Seinfeld for being so funny. Humor does not help one fall asleep faster. It instead wakes the mind even more, for different reasons than before.
Sometimes I decide to chug some caffeine. This will after all be the inevitable route in any situation. This fuel of my heart starts the engines that never stopped. The bucket feels lighter under influence. I know in the back of my mind that it is heavier than ever. The caffeine only hides the pipet, or perhaps hides the fingers which squeeze it.
One last method, which is as rare as rollover sleep, is night writing. It is not fast. It is not efficient, nor inefficient. It is not funny. It does not lull me to sleep. It is often fueled by caffeine and confessions. It is the most waking of the options. It reminds me of who I am. It reminds me of my weaknesses. It reminds me of my humanity.
And yet, I wish I never had to experience night writing.
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