Even after three years at a job where I get up at the ass crack of dawn, I still fight sleep like I’m Nina Williams vs the Mishima Zaibatsu.
Ergo, for those of you who don’t speak Fighting Game Dork-inese like myself, I hate to go to bed early.
I’m like the kid at Christmas who’s staying awake to see Santa Claus only to find out that he won’t come unless I’m fast asleep.
I’ve always been a Night Owl. I think I get it from my dad. When I was little my dad wouldn’t come home until way after midnight and I can remember a few Christmases and New Years where my dad would celebrate with me and my mom for a little while and then hit the streets after properly bringing the holiday in with us. I never understood why he always left, but it didn’t matter because he was always there when I woke up in the morning.
I now know that my dad was out partying, and I’ve honestly inherited this gene from him.
But it doesn’t just extend to holidays and weekends. Once I’m up, I’m up. And I’d have to be really sleepy in order to shirk my Night Owl responsibilities. Like tonight. I know I have to get up early tomorrow, but I don’t care. I’m just holding on, sippin’ on this concoction of vodka and juice without a care in the world. I’ll go to bed soon enough, but I’m not pressed, even though I should be.
OK, that’s all. Just wanted to write something before I went to bed.