We Are Midnight

I stay up later than I should. I pay for it incrementally every morning, a grumpy groggy shell for at least a couple of hours. Why do I do this?

It's not because I'm not tired. In fact, I'm usually mentally exhausted by 11:00 pm. I've never had any trouble falling asleep at night, not since 7-year-old Michael gave up his nightlight. I have the most comfortable bed in the world, and when I finally lay my head down, I'm out in 15 minutes max. It's usually a lot less.

I think the reason I stay up is because I know that I've failed to make the most of the past day. Maybe staying up is a desperate attempt to squeeze one last little bit of meaning, fulfillment, or happiness out of this, one of my tragically few days on earth. Maybe if I stay up just a little bit longer, someone will text me or facebook me. Maybe I'll stumble on a picture that makes me laugh. Maybe I'll read a reddit post that makes me think, or consider something I've never considered before. Maybe an old friend will show up at my door, and I'll be whisked away from this lonely room on a midnight adventure.

I don't hate my life like I did once. It's probably never been better. But late at night, when my thoughts start to wander, all I see is a life that revolves around forcibly stuffing my brain with things I don't really care about.

Is this the way of the world?

"We are midnight, on a fast ride

Held a ticket in our hands for anywhere
Out of our minds, thought we could fly
As the morning comes we start to disappear."

Thanks for Nothing, Mayday Parade

On the trip from Edmonton back to Vegreville on new years morning, I listened to the new Mayday Parade album. My attention span has been drastically shortened by the internet age of instant gratification to the point that I can barely read books anymore, and unfortunately listening to a full album end to end is becoming a rarity for me these days. My rating of this one: 7 out of 10.

That night, I went out to the garage to try to write some music. I settled in at the piano, picked up a pen, and started scribbling on the back of an old lyric sheet for Hedley's "Old School". I wrote a whole song pretty much start to finish, without much planning or changing things along the way. It came out sounding very Mayday Parade. Personally, I don't like it that much. But it's a song that I wrote in the spirit of the moment that I think captures the way I was feeling quite well.

Lyrics below, music soon to follow. Let me know what you think.

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"Thanks for Nothing, Mayday Parade"

Pack my life up in the back of my car

It doesn’t weigh much. The only thing that’s there

Is the weight of the memories that make us who we are.

I don’t have many, but lately I don’t care. Because...

I live at least two lies, and I’m making my way between them.

There’s an archive in my closet of the pieces that fall away.

I try to buy the perfect clothes, and hang them up for exhibition.

But I never wear them. No, I never wear them anyway.

15 bucks an hour is the Good Doctor’s prescription.

Guess it’s working, cause I don’t feel ill.

But I feel down and I feel out, and I have got to figure out

what turned a boy into a man in this position.

I’ve got nothing to say. It’s not like I’m not okay, but...

I live at least two lies, and I’m making my way between them.

There’s an archive in my closet of the pieces that fall away.

I try to buy the perfect clothes, and hang them up for exhibition.

But I never wear them. No, I never wear them...

Bring it on home, bring it on home, bring it on home now.

Bring it on home, bring it on home, bring it on home now.

Bring it on home, bring it on home, bring it on home now.

Bring it on home, bring it on home, bring it on home now.

(I’m an airplane with an anchor, I’m a cancer in remission,

I’m a warrior in battle without any ammunition.

I’m a lawyer, I’m a liar, I’m a sleasy politician,

I’m a celebrated future man that lives in contradiction.)

I live at least two lies, and I’m making my way between them.

There’s an archive in my closet of the pieces that fall away.

I try to buy the perfect clothes, and hang them up for exhibition.

But I never wear them. No, I never wear them anyway.

Maybe it's not my weekend, but it's gonna be my year.

Happy new year! For my new years celebration, I watched the Canada vs. USA World Junior game, ate too much stuffed crust pizza and chips with salsa con queso, and got wasted while playing Mario Party 7 and 007: Nightfire on Gamecube with 4 other dudes. What did you do?

When I made my New Years plans, I was upset at how lame they were. New Years, I thought, should be spent at an awesome party with lots of people (read: lots of girls) dancing, drinking, and generally being as social as possible. There should be a kiss at midnight. It should be the opposite of staying in and playing old video games with a few other guys.

Looking back at the night, I'm still think it was pretty lame in principle, but I'm not upset about it anymore. Sure, I definitely could have made much more of one of the calendar's cardinal party nights. But unlike in the past, I recognize that not doing so was a result of my own lack of initiative, and not some innate social failing. I could have gone out, been social, kissed at midnight, and partied the night away if I'd made an effort to, and I know that I'd have kicked ass doing it. Since I don't have to prove that to myself anymore, I can accept the night the way it happened. I rang in the new year surrounded by friends, and I had a great time. That's more than a lot of people can say.

I plan to go twice as hard at the first King's party this term to make up for it.