Unpopular Opinion: Daylight Is Overrated

Maybe it’s menopause — isn’t everything? - but what’s better than the excuse to chill out and lie down as the sky darkens and the leaves fall?

Hi!

I am going to be uncharacteristically succinct today because it is my daughter’s 23rd birthday(!) and we are going out. (And if you say, “Happy Birthday, Charlotte Janey!” - or a version of that that you are comfortable with - in the comments, I will love you even more than I already do.)

I really like this Unpopular Opinion that Amanda sent in, even though I am opposed myself to almost every concept in it. And I am running it now even though she just wrote something here very recently (which I also loved). I do have other pieces to publish that I am super excited about from other writers (or even “authors”, my new favorite distinction, though I don't get the exact difference – but I like calling myself one and in my head pronouncing it like I'm saying “colour” like in this sketch…

.) [Yes, that was a parenthetical with a video embedded in it - my parentheses know no bounds.]

But anyway, I wanted to be fair because Amanda got this manuscript in SO FAST after I asked for submissions and I didn’t want it to be a hurry up and wait situation for her. As a boss, I have always hated making people rush and then having it not be worth their while. On the other hand, however, as an employee, I was once waiting on the set of a Cameron Crowe movie in my comfy trailer with wonderful food and hugs from Tom Cruise for two full weeks for my little few-second cameo and I did not mind a bit! I could have happily hurried up and waited there for months, if I hadn’t had a magazine back in New York to edit and an office to show up in. So maybe I am just that extremely patient and understanding, hmmmm.)

On the personal front, and even somewhat related to the daylight and sleep-cycle argument in today’s piece, I wanted to tell you that because of my book deal, I this week allowed myself to buy TWO NEW PILLOWS! I am the type of person who will not buy the fancy mustard unless I feel certain I have earned it - it’s not that fun a trait and something I would like to change. We’ll see.

The thing about these pillows - and I don’t know if this is the norm these days - is that both (two different brands) came with extra stuffing so you could make them the depth that is best for your sleeping style. But along with not allowing myself to buy a Seventeen magazine until I had finished all of my semester exams (that’s how long I have been this way), I also hate to waste. It probably comes from not having a lot growing up, but I save food that many would throw out and, in this pillow case (ha), couldn’t see not using ALL of the stuffing in both pillows. Every last tiny little fluff. If one part of a fluff fell on the floor, no no no no I would retrieve it, unzip the little closure at the top and shove it in there. Wouldn’t it be a waste not to?

So today I have a crick (is that the word?) in my neck from sleeping on two foot-high pillows. They are so stuffed that they are basically round. There’s a lesson in there somewhere and if you find it for me, I will be grateful and maybe even listen to your advice.

Ok, I am running to birthday celebrations and sending you so much love as I am going to focus on my wonderful daughter and nothing else until I get home later and invariably check in here to talk to you. So until then, I’m sure Amanda can hold down the fort (this woman is a productivity MACHINE and I have the daily texts and DMs and emails to prove it - I adore her and if she has this much energy on her sleep schedule, I should probably consider it). Amanda can also take it if you completely disagree with her. As a matter of fact, I think she (and I) thrive on that. So comment away and don’t hold back. Ever.

I love you!

Jane

PS If I made mistakes here, let me know and I will fix them up later. Any of Amanda’s typos are her own and she owns them and will explain….

By Amanda Long

I love the dark, especially when I don’t have to stay up late to enjoy it. Yes, I love it at 4:30 pm — in November, not in August, mind you, but when the squirrels are cozy in their dreys, dens and burrows after a day of nut-scrambling and limb-leaping. I especially love the early-eve dark if I’d had a similar day of scrambling and leaping to and fro between my practice as a massage therapist, writing, and helping my 82-year-old Mom find her phone over the phone via a landline I got her for this very expedition.

Me on the farm with a runny nose and a sunny backdrop.

I love getting out of bed and dancing in my pajamas tee shirt at 5:30 a.m and getting into another soft Wilco tee shirt and soft pants (yes, even softer than the joggers and scrubs I wear for work) at 5:30 pm. Please don’t mistake my ardor for arrogance. I don’t think I’m better than you for getting up early; I think I’m better FOR me when I rise and fall with the sun, farmer style.

I need all the cues I can get to slow down and sit still.

I love going for cocktails at 5 p.m. and seeing everyone’s reflections in the glass, honoring the good, romantic bar lighting. I love that it loosens inhibitions, making our suburban bar into its own black-box theater production. And I really love being home by 8 p.m. I love not going, going, going, going, all damn day because I’ve already done that for the past four months — and let’s be honest, the past 40 years.

You don’t lose the golden hour when you embrace the early darkness, just welcome it earlier with friends. If menopause and puberty are poles on planet woman, it makes sense that as a teen, my day was just getting started at 4, and as 53-year old, it’s winding down at the same time.Here am I at a coffee/wine bar around 4:45, my work day finished. I did ask the owner of the wine bar, a friend, why it was study-hall-carrel bright at 5:30. He instantly lowered the lights.

See, this is the thing. I need all the cues I can get to slow down and be still. I’ve written about the one-two punch (or the chicken-egg combo) of having an unregulated thyroid and eating disorder. For more almost 30 years of my life, I had two modes: on and off. I’d work out, work, work out again (in my 20s and 30s), go out and run errands and then come home around 8, eating a late dinner alone with my lover — the food I was about to binge. Eating disorders create havoc all over the place, but especially with your schedule. They like you alone and on the move. I stayed that way. In recovery for eight years, I’m still trying to tune back in to the feedback loop of my body’s natural rhythms. It’s not been easy.

I hope we don’t lose our seasons like we’re losing aging faces.

For the first five years of recovery, I could barely watch TV at night as binge-watching and binge-TV were so intertwined.