Why I Stay Up Late

Sleep has always been my Achilles' heel. I might be a food aficionado, and enjoy listening to all sorts of different music, but the real thing that I cannot go without is sleep. ~

The problem has gotten much, much worse this past year. ~ Since university allows greater freedom with schedules, I've started waking up at 12 pm to make it to 1 pm classes (note that I live 45 minutes away from the university), despite vowing to make it to the library at 9 am to study. ~ On weekends, I sleep in to 2 pm, 3 pm, 4 pm... It gets so bad that when my mom tries to shake me awake in the morning, I firmly yell, "No! No! No!" and turn over disgruntedly, despite not consciously being aware of my own actions. ~ Six hours later, I angrily call her, demanding why she let me sleep in. When she tells me the story, I am aghast. ~

My friends have attempted to help rectify this problem. ~ Several have been on alarm duty, calling me to wake me up. ~ I am ashamed to say that I often take their call, agree to get up, and then promptly fall back into bed, out cold. ~ Someone tried to get me using an app called "Sleep if U Can", whereby you dutifully take a picture in another room the previous night and have to get up in the morning to take the same picture in order to turn off your alarm. ~ Gleefully, I tried it, making all sorts of hopeful promises to myself about getting back on track. ~ The next morning, I sleep through three hours of my alarm going off. ~

I've missed many outings with friends because instead of waking up at 6 am, I find myself blinking away sleep at 3 in the afternoon. ~ One day, I missed the first bit of my 1 pm class because not only my ten alarms, but also my carbon monoxide detector going off, failed to wake me from my dreams. ~

My new house has only aggravated the issue. ~ My family now lives in an extremely quiet neighbourhood, where barely a car drives by all day. ~ My room faces the north, so that no sunlight streams through my shutters in the morning (not that that would help wake sleeping me much). ~ After my parents leave the house in the mornings, I might as well be the last person alive, unknowingly sleeping through the beginnings of a zombie apocalypse. ~

I can fall asleep absolutely anywhere. ~ As many of my summer camp friends can testify, neither heat nor cold nor loud noises can prevent me from catching a few Z's or a billion. ~ Whether it's sprawled across my desk, leaning against a wall, cuddled up in a library chair, or cramped atop a lab bench, sleep settles over me like a gentle blanket, engulfing me in darkness. ~

By this point, you're probably wondering: "If she loves sleep so much, then why not sleep more?" A simple question, posed to a complicated person. ~ You see, the reason sleep has become such an issue for me is that I'm wide awake at the worst times possible. ~ 1 am? Time to start a new TV series! 2 am? Let's launch into a full-length MCAT practice exam (which lasts for 4 hours straight)! ~ 6 am? Time to start banging away on the piano, rousing the entire house. ~ I'm a classic night owl. ~

What set me on this horrible routine? ~ Well, it's progressively gotten worse over the years. ~ It began when I snatched a few extra minutes past 10 to finish a project, then after 11 to read another page of my novel, then over midnight to finish up a report, then 1 to squeeze in another episode of Friends... It just seems that when no one else at home is awake, I'm most productive and alert. ~ Also, late night conversations are often the most meaningful and the most interesting. ~ Staying up just that much later gives me the chance to either spend some quality time catching up with a friend who's in the US, or getting in some last minute studying. ~
There's also an odd sense of excitement to be the last one awake. ~ It feels like the entire world has stopped for you, and everything you do will seem like you've warped time to people who wake up the next morning. ~ The adrenaline probably has something to do with this as well - you're forcing your body to extremes, so it responds duly and gives you that rush, that extra burst of concentration, so that you can achieve so much more. ~

This second life has begun to take its toll on me, however. ~ I'm often sluggish during the day, having to rely on coffee or tea in order to function properly. ~ I'm also a horribly cranky person in the morning, giving my mother sullen looks for having woken me and dozing in the car on the way to work (not behind the wheel, of course). ~ I'm always amazed by people who can wake up at 5 to spruce themselves up for the day, showing up at school or work like they've just been airbrushed into being. ~
So tonight, I'll be heading home, telling myself I'll go to bed "early" and wake up feeling refreshed and happy tomorrow morning, while knowing full well that I'll end up having some sort of epiphany at 11 pm and decide to stay up for the next few hours developing the idea. ~

Sweet dreams, everyone. ~

The IB Theory

I've revealed it. ~ Not that anyone who knows me personally doesn't already know about the torturous program in which I'm enrolled. ~ Yes, I'm in IB. ~
Moving right along, I've recently developed a theory on the International Baccalaureate program. (Incredible, I didn't even have to check the spelling of that.) ~ As any IB student knows, the homework load dropped upon our fragile young shoulders is substantial. And by substantial, I mean HUGE. ~ Now that I'm "officially" in IB, I have come to terms with this reality within my first week of school. ~
Have the rest of you IB children not realized how completely over-compulsive, paranoid and unstable the character of IB is? ~ Uncertainties must be expressed in the sciences to express the sad fact that we humans are not perfect. ~ It seems as if Group IV is an opportunity for us poor lifeless kids to have a social life. ~ In literature, there has not been a single book or play in which someone has not had a symbolic death. ~ The study of history is strangely concentrated on genocide, over-exploitation, and slavery. ~ In math, one can only rely on the trusty TI-84 as we take the plunge into paradoxes and the possibility of a non-existent infinity. ~ And remember, failing is all right, because it'll still be above the class average. ~
So why does IB put us through this misery? ~ Here comes the theory. Yes, I just made you read an entire prologue to my theory, my thesis. ~ Which is the following: IB cruelly forces us to undergo hours upon sleepless hours of reading, analyzing, writing, rewriting, editing, re-editing, then re-re-editing, to push us to our deepest, darkest, most morbid limits. ~ And upon reaching that extreme, we release our true inner potential to think. ~ Indeed, all the great works of old sum up as being revelations of the dark side of human nature, only attainable by stretching one paper-thin with exhaustion, bad news and sheer despair. ~ Sounds eerily like IB, doesn't it? ~
So as we all board this train that will carry us to IB hell, praying to the fickle IB gods for salvation, let's take comfort in this simple fact: anything that life throws our way will be nothing compared to the horrors we will have studied and experienced on our International Baccalaureate journey. ~

Last Days

Incredible. I feel so completely drained, yet so completely drunk on euphoria. All this tinted with a bittersweet sadness makes for a very befuddled and precariously endangered Resa. ~ In this state, there's no telling what I'll say next, or decide to do. My head is spinning. ~ But enough of that. I believe the fate of the human race is much more interesting than any simple complications I could experience. ~
The rich and the poor. This eternal divide that has and will split the human race forever. ~ We all love power. There's no denying the rush of emotion that comes along with the realization that a decision is yours to make. ~ What to do with our resources? ~ What will win, our consciousness... or that inevitable human greed? ~
Everything is so temporary. Yet humans never change. Deep down, the same animalistic need for survival is still there. And it will never disappear. Instinct is the root of greed. ~
North Americans wish to ''help'' developing nations such as Africa. Or so we claim. But deep down, why do we feel the need to provide aid to those who are worse off than ourselves? Truly, it could not simply be our consciousness. ~ What, then? ~ The answer is evident, once pointed out. ~ We do it for personal reassurance. For a sense of righteousness that stems from the need for feeling great. ~ Essentially, we attempt to help others to satisfy our own desires. Every once in awhile, that nagging consciousness reminds us that we are evil. And so, to overcome the guilt, we aid others. Selflessness, we call it. Self-actualization is a better term for it. ~ Once again, I am swamped with a distaste for the human race. Me, a human myself. Oh, the irony. ~
Sinking into that sarcastic, dark mood again. Prolonged contact with forty-six other amazing individuals has installed in me a deep need for constant communication. Writing joyful, uplifting speeches right now is impossible. I apologize for raining on anyone's parade. Human fate is too broad a subject to be fully addressed in one post anyway. ~ Really, in three days, after a good long cry, I'll do better. Scout's honour, pinky promise. ~

Camp

Camp is an exhausting yet exhilarating experience. ~ Every minute of the day is planned, yet it's different from school. There's more of a feeling of freedom and preciousness, because camp only lasts for a month. I feel like I need to enjoy these few jam-packed days before they're snatched away from me. ~
It's amazing how quickly your perception of someone can change throughout prolonged interaction. There's no time to mull over things that happened or to analyze what people said to you during the day once you're alone in bed, because you've been bombarded with so many images and words that at the end of the day, sleep is the only sane option left. So you begin to formulate opinions on people very quickly, processing events and saving them in the back of the mind, registering another personality trait with a secret smile. ~ All these bits and pieces of information eventually combine to form the picture that pops up when you visualise that person. ~
At camp, you get to know so many people for real... what they're like not only at their best, but also at their worst. Sleep deprivation, a new environment, and challenging projects really bring out what people can usually keep hidden. ~
At camp, everyone gets to know what your bed hair looks like, when you do your laundry, what you're truly passionate about. ~ You make close friends, yet deep down you know that come the end the of camp, you'll have to part ways and break those strong new bonds that you've formed over such a short period of time. ~ Is that knowledge holding me back? Stupid fear. ~
It's cold, a temperature that's beginning to lull me to sleep. The content clacking of the other campers on their keyboards soothes me. Perhaps nap time is due. Signing off! ~