"Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and fall into a vortex, as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace."
— Louisa May Alcott (Little Women)
— Louisa May Alcott (Little Women)
Much like Jo March, a young girl created by Louisa May Alcott in my favorite novel, “Little Women”, writing has always been something I’ve found to be imperative rather than merely enjoyable, something that until done, often nearly overtakes me. The need to see words become visible regularly demands the majority of my attention. Whether tucked away in a dear journal’s pages, in a folder upon various scraps of paper and napkin corners not originally intended for my own handwriting, or documented in computers’ files, my life has been written out. The volumes are not well organized, some pages have been torn out and discarded, and bits and pieces have found themselves missing, but still nonetheless, I have always written. Enough time passes, I finally sit down to write and just as Jo, “till that was finished”, I can find no peace.
These writing fits usually occur at night when I would prefer to be sleeping. Thoughts about both insignificant and weighty things tumble around in my head and after enough tossing and turning, I find myself scribbling away. In the morning I wake up to pages that seem much less vital than they felt only hours ago. Why is that? Nighttime seems to change things, awaken and emphasize matters. Perhaps after a long day, my filter stops working…So what would normally seem childish seems exciting, unfortunate things become heartbreaking, and what could wait until morning appears crucial to my well being.
The odd thing about this pattern however, is that I am without a doubt, a morning person. Why do we all have to be only a “morning person” or a “night owl”? Why can’t we be both? I have this theory on that theory…I think someone invented those two giant categories so that whenever someone acted selfishly towards another person, they could simply attribute this behavior to their lack of “morning person” qualities. When really, they’re just nasty. I’ve met people like that. When treated in a way I think rude, I generally try to “grin and bear it” in order to avoid what feels to be petty confrontation. Yet on this particular matter I would like to finally say to everyone who has been horrid and then excused themselves based on the pretense of personality: You simply lack self control and I don’t like you. Does it just take you an hour longer than the other half of the population to find your common decency? Oh of course. So you will be ok with me following through on your viewpoint when at 2 a.m. I hit you in the face only to look at you in surprise when you become angry and say, “What? I’m just not a night person.” Lucky for you I’ve declared myself both and won’t be hitting you at all.
That rant makes me sound as though I must dislike large groups of the population but that is not the case. I love people and treasure those in my life. Isn’t it unfortunate that people don’t usually remain a part of our lives’ for more than just a season? Of course there are lifelong friends, whom matters such as time and distance cannot faze, but for the most part I have found consistent time spent with friends to be in monthly or yearly time frames. I suppose that is normal considering how many transitions we make in our lives'- we move to different cities, we change occupations, and we find new interests. Knowing that something is to be expected though, never makes its impact less real. I become attached to people’s quirks and mannerisms so quickly and yet take my whole life to forget them. One of my favorite things about my dear friend Olivia is simply the way she shifts her weight from one side to another when she is contemplating something. I love her in her details. Such minute things often become painful however. When you are not able to see a person you have come to know, those little pieces become bittersweet. As thankful as I am to know such things, they cause me to miss people terribly. Through this bittersweet struggle though, I would never trade those in my life’s smallest features for a chance not to notice their absence.
Now I think that is finished and I shall try and get some sleep. One last thing! Huxley and I played dress up the other day. Here are his outfits : ).
-Bethany
