I've heard of people who perceive the sound of rain to be calming, especially at night,
but I never understood why. How can you even think about sleeping to the sound of
thousands of tiny fists relentlessly hammering on your roof and windows? Well,
considering the silence and occasional snore around me, it seems I'm the only one here
who feels that way. Good for them, they need the rest more than I do. Give me 4 or 5
hours of sleep and man, I'll wake up feeling fresh as ever, ready to rip trees from the
ground. Or at least that's what I tell myself all the time, while my energy keeps
dwindling throughout the day and by 8 pm or so, I just want to let myself fall to the
ground and into a coma. But who goes to bed at 8 pm, except kids and our beloved
senior citizens? Nobody, that's who. And so I push myself through the evening until I
reach the socially acceptable time of 11 pm or 01 am and I can finally, with a good
conscience, get some well deserved rest. And then I lay there, enjoying the warmth and
comfort of my bed, while my brain keeps rattling on and on and on about today's
events, tomorrow's plans, song ideas I've had for a while, my family and friends who are
all doing ok I hope, the many problems complicating my life right now, how my favorite
sports team should just fire their damn coach already after five losses in a row, and all
the other important topics of life.
I don't like checking the time at night. In the end, you're just reminded that you're not
having much of it left to sleep and usually that's exactly what causes this really annyoing
feeling of anxiety, that you'll have to tackle the coming day completely exhausted and
that every night for the rest of your life will be exactly like this and you'll never feel not
tired ever again. I'm not sure why I still get this feeling, though. As I said, even after 3 or
4 hours, I'll wake up rested and there's no trace left of it. I mean, I usually don't feel
really motivated to start the day anyway, but that's another story.
I admire people who just have to close their eyes and can instantly fall asleep in any
standing, sitting or lying position. I'm not jealous. I feel happy for them, I really do. But it
makes me wonder, what could be the difference between me and them? Don't they
have any issues in life? Do they just not... think? I absolutely don't mean this in an
insulting way, but when do you even have the occasion to spend some quality time with
your brain, if not at night? There are way too many distractions during the day for that.
Again, I'm happy for these folks. I'm pretty sure there are many others who have to
endure uneasy nights on a regular basis, so I'm just happy for any person who doesn't
have to deal with this bullshit.
To be fair, I would also be lying if I said I've never thought about having some fun with
my current companions, even if it would mean messing with their sleep. In the 19th
century, a priest from the local village used to live up here, about a 20 minutes march
away, first in a natural cave and later in a self-built hut. There are only ruins left today
because nobody bothered to take care of it after his death, so wind and rain did their
part over time. Not surprising, to be honest. Who in their right mind would feel
motivated to make an almost 2 days hike just to fix some holes in the roof a run-down
hut in the middle of fucking nowhere? From the looks of what's left, it also wasn't a
really spacious or comfortable place, just the most necessary to make sure you're not
freezing to death or getting eaten by a bear at night and yes, they used be around here,
believe it or not. Then again, this guy obviously didn't move up here for the comfort or
gracious living. Maybe in part because of the view, but mostly because he wanted a
religiously ascetic lifestyle and, I assume, because he wanted to get the fuck away from
everybody else. Can you blame him? I can't. Of course there's a chance he might have
stuck around if stuff like TV or radio was already invented, but who knows. I guess some
people just take a look at the world some day and decide there and then "Well, it was a
nice run, so long suckers!"
Back to my malicious thoughts. I could tell the others that after he moved here, children
in the village started to disappear, never to be seen again. And during the night, the
inhabitants could have sworn they heard the tormented cries of young innocent voices
coming from the mountain, howling through the darkness. Shit, I'm already getting
goosebumps and I'm the one inventing this stuff! Let's say that to this day, if you try
really hard, you can still hear these cries, but once you do, you'll never be able to unhear
them. Let's also say in all the years since then, many lonesome hikers who dared to take
the path up to the priest's old dwelling were inexplicably lost without a trace and those
who returned did so in a state of terror and anguish, swearing that they saw the old
man haunting them, even hundreds of years after his presumed passing. I could try to
sneak out undetected next night, just make some noises, leave some weird traces, Blair
Witch style. Ha, I feel like an evil genius right now.
Obviously I won't follow through with this plan, although I'm sure I could indeed get a
few frightened responses from some of the others, just robbing them of their night and
giving them something to think about, after all.
But I won't. I'm not that mean, am I now?
I've heard of people who perceive the sound of rain to be calming, especially at night,
but I never understood why. How can you even think about sleeping to the sound of
thousands of tiny fists relentlessly hammering on your roof and windows? Well,
considering the silence and occasional snore around me, it seems I'm the only one here
who feels that way. Good for them, they need the rest more than I do. Give me 4 or 5
hours of sleep and man, I'll wake up feeling fresh as ever, ready to rip trees from the
ground. Or at least that's what I tell myself all the time, while my energy keeps
dwindling throughout the day and by 8 pm or so, I just want to let myself fall to the
ground and into a coma. But who goes to bed at 8 pm, except kids and our beloved
senior citizens? Nobody, that's who. And so I push myself through the evening until I
reach the socially acceptable time of 11 pm or 01 am and I can finally, with a good
conscience, get some well deserved rest. And then I lay there, enjoying the warmth and
comfort of my bed, while my brain keeps rattling on and on and on about today's
events, tomorrow's plans, song ideas I've had for a while, my family and friends who are
all doing ok I hope, the many problems complicating my life right now, how my favorite
sports team should just fire their damn coach already after five losses in a row, and all
the other important topics of life.
I don't like checking the time at night. In the end, you're just reminded that you're not
having much of it left to sleep and usually that's exactly what causes this really annyoing
feeling of anxiety, that you'll have to tackle the coming day completely exhausted and
that every night for the rest of your life will be exactly like this and you'll never feel not
tired ever again. I'm not sure why I still get this feeling, though. As I said, even after 3 or
4 hours, I'll wake up rested and there's no trace left of it. I mean, I usually don't feel
really motivated to start the day anyway, but that's another story.
I admire people who just have to close their eyes and can instantly fall asleep in any
standing, sitting or lying position. I'm not jealous. I feel happy for them, I really do. But it
makes me wonder, what could be the difference between me and them? Don't they
have any issues in life? Do they just not... think? I absolutely don't mean this in an
insulting way, but when do you even have the occasion to spend some quality time with
your brain, if not at night? There are way too many distractions during the day for that.
Again, I'm happy for these folks. I'm pretty sure there are many others who have to
endure uneasy nights on a regular basis, so I'm just happy for any person who doesn't
have to deal with this bullshit.
To be fair, I would also be lying if I said I've never thought about having some fun with
my current companions, even if it would mean messing with their sleep. In the 19th
century, a priest from the local village used to live up here, about a 20 minutes march
away, first in a natural cave and later in a self-built hut. There are only ruins left today
because nobody bothered to take care of it after his death, so wind and rain did their
part over time. Not surprising, to be honest. Who in their right mind would feel
motivated to make an almost 2 days hike just to fix some holes in the roof a run-down
hut in the middle of fucking nowhere? From the looks of what's left, it also wasn't a
really spacious or comfortable place, just the most necessary to make sure you're not
freezing to death or getting eaten by a bear at night and yes, they used be around here,
believe it or not. Then again, this guy obviously didn't move up here for the comfort or
gracious living. Maybe in part because of the view, but mostly because he wanted a
religiously ascetic lifestyle and, I assume, because he wanted to get the fuck away from
everybody else. Can you blame him? I can't. Of course there's a chance he might have
stuck around if stuff like TV or radio was already invented, but who knows. I guess some
people just take a look at the world some day and decide there and then "Well, it was a
nice run, so long suckers!"
Back to my malicious thoughts. I could tell the others that after he moved here, children
in the village started to disappear, never to be seen again. And during the night, the
inhabitants could have sworn they heard the tormented cries of young innocent voices
coming from the mountain, howling through the darkness. Shit, I'm already getting
goosebumps and I'm the one inventing this stuff! Let's say that to this day, if you try
really hard, you can still hear these cries, but once you do, you'll never be able to unhear
them. Let's also say in all the years since then, many lonesome hikers who dared to take
the path up to the priest's old dwelling were inexplicably lost without a trace and those
who returned did so in a state of terror and anguish, swearing that they saw the old
man haunting them, even hundreds of years after his presumed passing. I could try to
sneak out undetected next night, just make some noises, leave some weird traces, Blair
Witch style. Ha, I feel like an evil genius right now.
Obviously I won't follow through with this plan, although I'm sure I could indeed get a
few frightened responses from some of the others, just robbing them of their night and
giving them something to think about, after all.
But I won't. I'm not that mean, am I now?