I’ve always been a night owl.
In elementary school I would hide under my Whinnie-the-Pooh blanket with a forbidden Stephen King book and a flash light, reading about the sexy world of vampires, monsters and serial killers from Maine.
In middle school I spent my nights with headphones, a portable radio, and Love Line with Dr. Drew; I was obsessed with words that were forbidden in my household.
In high school I was a nocturnal drunk, sneaking out of the house to drink Natural Light beer in pickup trucks with my equally stupid friends.
In college I spent my nights on my boyfriend’s couch, listening to him write songs on his guitar until we passed out and missed class entirely.
Now, I stay up until the wee hours of the morning writing markup and styles. While the spirit of rabble-rousing rebellion may no longer be present, I still feel most alive late at night.
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This is one hell of an entry. Thanks for the beautiful read.
(That photo, however, might give me nightmares. Hel-lo, upcoming sleepless nights.)
Ethan