1732: The Overnighter

Just got back from an incredibly long day at work — effectively two days at work for the price of one, thanks to some overnight working as well as my normal shift. Consequently, I’m utterly knackered, so you’ll forgive any incoherence and/or typos, I hope. (I do get tomorrow off, at least; I intend to do a lot of sleeping after I have finished typing this.)

I don’t mind pulling late/all-nighters generally, because it allows me to indulge in one of my stranger pleasures: being in places that are normally full of people when they are deserted.

It’s something that’s always fascinated me, ever since I was a youngling and often got the opportunity to stay late at school to do various music activities. School concert night was always a particular highlight; not only did I tend to enjoy the concert itself, but there was something… I don’t know, almost romantic about the atmosphere around the school campus when it was all but deserted aside from a few people.

In fact, I’ve always enjoyed the night generally. When out walking in the darkness, there’s always the slight lingering fear that behind the next bush might be a knife-wielding maniac, of course, but for the most part I love the atmosphere of night-time: the peace and quiet; the way the air feels somehow different — probably because it’s not being churned up and polluted by hundreds of cars; the way everything feels like it’s going slightly faster than normal; the way bad weather, particularly snow, makes you feel like the place you’re in is a private little world.

It’s the peace and quiet part that gets me the most, I think, because it allows you to really drink in what is going on around you. You can listen to your footsteps as you walk; listen to your breathing; hear the birds start to sing to signal the beginning of the “morning” process (at least if you stay up as late as I have tonight); try to work out what the noises in the distance might be. Any sound near you feels almost infinitely louder, and hearing someone talking always feels like you’re intruding on a private moment. (Perhaps you are.)

It’s the contrast, too; I love comparing how a deserted place in the dead of night compares to how I know it is in the daytime. By day, it might be bustling hub of activity, with the constant noise of human interaction all around at all times. By night, it might be totally silent; you might be the only person there. There’s a sense of being in the unknown; of being somewhere “forbidden”, even if you have every right to be wherever you are.

In fact, were it possible to live one’s life in a more nocturnal manner, I think I’d happily do so. Judging by my drive back from work tonight, it would certainly save on traffic frustrations, if nothing else!

#oneaday Day 94: Darkness Falls

It’s been quite some time since I blogged at this hour. Last year, it was a semi-regular occurrence, thanks either to my buggered-up body clock, failing to blog until the late evening (or in some cases, until after I’d gone out and come back again) but for the most part, this year the datestamps on my work have been for the correct day. Tonight I’ve been recording a podcast, though, and I didn’t think to write something earlier, largely ’cause I was working.

I like night-time. I’ve often thought that night-time is the period in which my brain works best. Well, I’m not sure about “best” because I doubt if I wanted to do anything which could be called “work” right now that I’d do it to the best of my ability, but my brain certainly is at its most creative.

This is both a blessing and a curse; it means that the imagination can run wild, allowing you to picture wild and fantastic scenes as you attempt to lull yourself to sleep, but it also means that you can worry about things like taxes, cancer and alien invasions. It’s strange that the time of day at which you should theoretically be most exhausted is actually the time at which your brain seems most keen to get up, jump around and keep tapping you on the shoulder.

Perhaps it’s the fact that there’s no other distractions. By the time it gets to this hour, hopefully you have no “commitments” to worry about, no work to do, nothing you absolutely must do right now. As such, your brain decides that it’s playtime and starts wandering around looking for things to do when in fact all your body wants to do is get to sleep.

Sitting in darkness with a total lack of distractions is a good time to get things sorted in your mind. Given that we live in a world where we are surrounded by devices, websites, pets, siblings, partners, family members and various other things which all demand our attention to varying degrees, the opportunity to sit in the darkness and be, for once, alone with your thoughts is something which should be welcomed and cherished. You don’t necessarily have to come to any conclusions or make any big decisions—but the simple act of taking a moment to listen to what your brain is telling you is often enough to make you feel better about something.

And remember, whatever your brain might be telling you at 2AM, the eventual outcome will never be as bad as you’re expecting. So in many senses, those anxieties that you might find yourself feeling at stupid o’ clock in the morning may, in fact, just be setting you up for a pleasant surprise a little way down the road.

Now I’m going to go to sleep before I babble on about any more crap.

#oneaday, Day 268: Through the Night

I took my first steps into the night. Coming from the brightness I’d left behind me, the inky blackness looked impenetrable, a solid wall of darkness into which I’d vanish, never to be heard from ever again, were I to take one step further forward.

I took a step forward, and I did not vanish. The light was still behind me but my eyes were gradually adjusting, focusing, bringing that which was hidden into view again.

I took out the small torch and lit it, the small pool of light it cast spilling onto the floor, concentric circles of light and shadow. There’s always a way through even the blackest darkness if you have even just a little light.

I stepped forward again, and again, and began walking into the darkness. I didn’t know where my feet were taking me save into the black of the night. But I was moving forward, ever onward, like it was the thing to do. It was important. This was all that mattered right now. I walked, sweeping the dim light of the torch in front of me and watching ill-defined shapes pass as the light caught them and I walked past.

“Run,” whispered a voice in my ear, and I obeyed. I quickened my pace, still holding the torch, still sweeping it around, not knowing where I was headed or where I would end up. But I was running. The ground was hard under my feet, the regular thump-thump-thump of my steps mingling with the quickening of my heart in a chorus of drums that only I was witness to.

The darkness closed in around me, and the pool of light showed me that I was surrounded by shadows, but they did not feel threatening. Rather, they encased me, enclosed me, kept me safe. And still I ran, ever forward. The hard ground gave way beneath my feet to loose stones and finally soft mud. I felt the occasional splash of a puddle, but I was already past it, ever moving onwards. Still moving, still pushing forwards. But to where?

A scent filled my nostrils, a natural smell; the smell of the woods, of trees and leaves. It infused my being with a sense of peace. Out here there was nothing to fear, nothing to hide from, nothing to run from. But still I ran, with a sense of purpose that became ever more urgent.

In the distance, a pinpoint of light. As I drew closer, it flickered, its warm glow drawing my eyes away from the dark and towards what I now knew to be my destination. Closer still, and I could see the gentle flames; a source of comfort, warmth and safety, a place to rest a while.

As I entered the clearing I felt the warmth of the fire on my face and smelled the sweet smoke. And then she was there too, looking at me, smiling, those eyes gazing deep into my soul.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, taking my hand.

#oneaday, Day 243: Fun Things To Do in the Dark

I like the darkness. It lends further credence to my own theory that I am, in fact, a vampire. I can happily stay awake all night if necessary, find the night-time inherently appealing and drink blood. Actually, I don’t drink blood. Forget that last bit. DOMINATE! There. You’ve forgotten all that vampire talk now, right? Good.

But the darkness is good. It’s an eternal mystery, what lies out there. Even in a room you’re intimately familiar with, sitting there in the dark can put a whole new spin on things. Reach out to where you thought the wall was and grasp nothingness because it’s slightly further away than where you thought it was. Look at the tiny strip of light coming in through the gap in the curtains and wonder where it’s coming from.

And sit and think. This is not always a good thing, as the total absence of other stimuli often causes your brain to start thinking about all the things you’ve been avoiding thinking about. But it’s also an opportunity to sit and dwell on pleasant thoughts, too, assuming negative thoughts aren’t clouding your mind too much.

And if they are, you can always do one of the following things.

Torchlight

I’ve found torches and small lights fascinating since I was a young kid. When Silent Hill 2 came out, by far my favourite thing about it was the way that shadows got cast in the world as you walked around with that tiny flashlight. I’ve often sat and just shone a light around, casting shadows from different angles and looking at the way they move as the light moves around. It’s oddly hypnotic.

Shadow Puppetry

The socially acceptable alternative to the above, which looks a bit weird if you start doing it when other people are present, is shadow puppetry. Shine a light and use various bodily appendages to produce the shapes of all sorts of things. Then, inevitably, make them fight, shag and/or eat each other.

Find Your Way

In the dark? Hungry? Then live life on the edge. See if you can make your way to the fridge without turning on any lights and/or breaking your neck on the stairs. This domestic obstacle course is the ultimate test of how well you know your own house. And you’re rewarded at the other end not only by food, but by light, too. Assuming the light in your fridge works.

Scary Movies and Games

Everyone knows scary things are more scary in the dark. So flip on the TV, shut the curtains, switch off the lights, turn the speakers up loud and whack in a scary DVD or game. If you have a special someone whom you are able to either cling onto, or allow them to cling onto you, now is the time to go get them and enjoy some clingage.

Sit and Stare

Your eyes do weird things in the dark. Even though there’s nothing to look at, the way your eyes work make it feel like you can see things sometimes. Was that a real shadow over there, or are your eyes playing tricks? See how long you can stare into the darkness and see what happens. Particularly good for those who are feeling depressed, as the effort of concentrating hard on literally nothing at all will distract you from those unpleasant thoughts.

All right, those are all a bit lame. But I still like the dark. And I have done all of the above. Recently.

#oneaday, Day 132: Turnabout Mystery

Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes these bad things are so bad that they cast you into an abyss so dark, you wonder if you’ll see light again; an abyss so deep you doubt you’ll ever escape; an abyss you didn’t think existed but, as it happened, was opening beneath your feet before your very eyes, drawing you in silently, wordlessly, until the darkness enveloped you.

One such abyss claimed me a short while back. The details are, right now, unimportant. But I was deep in the darkness. I couldn’t see light. I couldn’t even feel the walls to stumble my way out by touch. I was lost, and fearing for my own salvation.

Sometimes good things happen. Sometimes these good things are so good that they cast a brilliant light into the very darkest places in your life. A light which heals; a light which bonds; a light which gives hope. That hope doesn’t have to be a big hope. It can be something as simple as a kind word or a smile with a million unspoken words behind it. Sometimes this light, this hope, comes along and brings light into the darkness. It may not banish it, but it certainly makes the path which must be trodden clearer.

My abyss has been brightened by one such light. The details are, once again, unimportant. The darkness still lingers, waiting to claim me, but the light is there now. The hope to carry on, to endure, to survive. The way ahead, while it may wend and meander into the distance, at least is visible now.

I know not what challenges await me along this newly-lit path, or whether I will be able to stave off the darkness temporarily, or even whether I may leave it behind altogether. But the light, it is there, and it makes me smile a smile that has not been on my face for some time.

And I am grateful. Forever grateful for that light. For without light, there is only darkness. And a man who spends so long in darkness eventually becomes one with the darkness.

That is not the fate I wish upon myself. I follow the light where it leads me, and my journey begins anew.

#oneaday, Day 127: Good Morning, Sleepyhead

Good morning! Well, it’s nearly 2AM after all. That traditional blogging time, you know.

So I’ve been by myself for some time now after a long time having someone beside me almost constantly. And the thing that’s struck me the most is how one’s perception of time changes. Or maybe it’s not the perception of time, it’s the brain associating certain activities with certain memories and wanting to distance itself from them. Or, to simplify matters, it’s about the messed-up sleepytime routine of the lonely man.

Take going to bed. I’ve found it quite difficult to make myself go to bed at a reasonable hour. I never was particularly good at it at the best of times, but if the occasion demanded it, I could be in bed before midnight. Before 11PM, even. But now? Staying up late isn’t particularly unusual. This isn’t some attempt to take full advantage of my new-found and not-particularly-enjoyable freedom. It’s simply that going to bed means spending time alone in a dark room. Which, as anyone who has ever suffered through depression, stress, or any sort of crisis (all three of which I’m suffering right now) will tell you, is a sure-fire way to get one’s brain thinking about things you don’t really want to think about. So my body convinces itself that it’s not tired and doesn’t want to go to bed yet. So I don’t. Eventually I will collapse into bed and sleep, but it’s only once I really can’t go on any longer.

The side-effect to this is, of course, that it’s sometimes a bit difficult to wake up in the morning. But not only that. Having grown accustomed to waking up alongside someone else and having that presence there to spur you on to face the day, whatever it might entail, it’s a shock to the system to suddenly have to do all that yourself. I can wake up early, sure. But getting out of bed? More difficult. When it feels like there’s not much to get up for – and certainly no-one waiting for me to get up – it becomes easy to just lie there staring into space or worse, fall asleep again. This is, of course, enormously impractical and could probably be rectified by going to bed a bit earlier, but because of the aforementioned reasons, that’s difficult too. Vicious cycle, you see.

It’s not as if I don’t keep myself busy, though. If I stay up late, it’s not just to stare at a wall or sit there in floods of tears, though both of those have happened at least once recently. No, I find something to do. I find someone to chat to. I write something. I draw something. I play a game. I harass people on Twitter. Anything to avoid having to sit in that dark room trying to get to sleep, failing and hearing that little tap-tap-tap of the unpleasant thoughts come a-knockin’ on my brain. It’s a distraction, though, not a substitute.

So the moral of this story, then, is don’t be alone. It sucks.