It shouldn't be right, but it is.

Most of Denver is sleeping right now.

Why is it that the only time I really want to write is at 2 in the morning on a night before an 8 A.M. class? I suppose I'm so attracted to this unearthly hour because while the rest of my world is unconscious, I am wide awake and caffeinated, accomplishing productive tasks like laundry and CD burning. And blogging. There is something so brilliantly rebellious, exciting and independent about staying up this late doing little things that I want to do. My siblings are not screaming or stampeding through the house. My mother is not nagging me to get off the computer and do something useful. Nobody is calling, texting or IMing me to carry on long conversations about nothing. I am filled with caramel-flavored coffee joy. This is a perfect moment of the night. It almost doesn't matter how miserable I might feel tomorrow morning.