Bright Night

I was walking home, a fairly short walk, and noticed that the reddish orange of the sun's radiance shining over the horizon, that is, not the sun itself, was still dying off in the distance. The light made my walk pleasant and effortless down the gravel road, which, in complete darkness, would have been full of trials and pitfalls. As I walked, not spending more than a few moments in contemplation of this typical phenomenon, I looked down at my watch, and noticed that, at least in my experience, it was anything but typical for the sun to still be setting at 11:23pm in late May. I have been away from my home for a long time, or else I'm just desensitized to the strange weather and climate. I wonder how late I will be able to see that orange glow on my birthday in late July. I suppose it might be midnight if I was looking from a spot above the treeline, and if it wasn't raining.

Playing piano in the dark is growing on me. I'm a fan of minor keys and sad songs. Mellow, depressing, tear-jerking, all of it. So finding a nice Fsus to Am (I know guitar theory better), and playing around with it for a few minutes here and there on the beautiful 88-key weighted keyboard is a beautiful thing to me. Then when you play it in the silence of night with no lights on until possibly the next room over, with only a crack of light beneath the door to light your fingers as they glide delicately across the greatly darkened keys, it just adds that much more to the experience. That is, once you get past the terrifying thought of Michael Myers smashing through the window, or creeping around upstairs looking for his next victim.

Why is it that even though I thoroughly enjoy a beautiful sunny day with a bit of a breeze in the air well above room temperature, I would much rather have a warm day, again above room temperature, but with passing showers and scattered clouds? Or, a warm night with nothing to see or do? Maybe in the warm rain, less people are interested in enjoying the great outdoors, so I get more space to myself. Or possibly, late at night is a pleasant time for me because it was always time to pack into the car and head home as I fell asleep in the back seat when I was little. I always felt perfectly safe as my very experienced chauffeur (father) took us gently around the curbs and slowly to full stops. As I felt the car carefully move from side to side and up and down, it gave me a sense of accomplishment, like I was keeping busy, and not wasting my time sitting still or sleeping. I was multitasking even as a child with slim to no formal education.
I'm starting to think that I am conditioning myself a certain way, in which I can no longer like what the majority likes. I am finding, that I find my identity in being unique as often as I can. When ninety percent of everyone likes a sunny day, I choose the rainy one. When everyone likes the new blockbuster hit, I look for the independent film. When someone genuinely finds pleasure in an extremely popular band, I find ways to tear their music down and suggest a smaller, lesser known, and as a result, more expensive band, which they will probably never get to see live just like me. The only thing I really believe I haven't forced myself to "not like" is tea or coffee. I just don't think they taste good, it's not about their popularity. Or could that even be my subconscious trying to persuade me to stick with Pepsi even though it's becoming old news? Being so unique has it's downsides, like having very few peers to turn to for the next addiction, and also of course being misunderstood and alone in every group to some degree, but there can be upsides too. Like feeling absolutely no pressure from the media! I don't think the fashion gurus, scary movie writers, or huge label producers will ever be able to shove anything down my throat. In fact, what they need to do is start saying, "no one should wear this!", "This movie is boring!", and "Music from an unheard-of nobody!", and I will probably be sucked right in. Hopefully they'll try it someday for things that destroy people from the inside out, instead of the typical overwhelming pressure from all directions on a twelve to twenty year old teen.