Gourmet double-chocolate cookies from the "New York Times". This is what I set out to make one hot summer night with a friend. I melted semi-sweet chocolate in a double-boiler and stirred it with a spoon, leaning over the stove in my pajamas. My friend stood nearby with her phone, filming the process in clips as dough slowly emerged before us. We whipped eggs and sugar as the oven crept to 350, folding dark chocolate chips into a rich mixture of flour, baking powder, and cocoa. I scooped the batter onto a tray and walked toward the oven, my anticipation mounting as we neared the culmination of our work. But just before I could open the door, the power flickered out.
We stood there in shock, my arms limp as I held the tray of half-finished cookies before me. I soon set them down on the counter and prepared to give up, but then the lights turned back on. My friend and I laughed as I walked back toward the oven with the tray. I opened the door and prepared to set the cookies inside, but the power turned off again.
After several hysterical back-and-forth trips between the counter and the oven, we gave up once we realized that the power was gone for good. I sat in the darkness of my kitchen, slowly processing the situation. My phone and laptop were nearly dead, my internet and cell service were not working, and we had no air conditioning. My friend and I tried to bake the cookies with what little heat the oven had left, which resulted in a half-baked mess. Soon after we accepted defeat, I packed the rest of the dough into the fridge and she left for home.
The rest of the evening was frightening in ways that I did not expect. I crept up to my room with a flashlight and hauled my dead electronics up with me. My parents were asleep, and there was not a sound of life in the house as I sunk into my bed. This might have seemed like an appropriate moment to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. Why? Because I had been suffering for months from “revenge bedtime procrastination.” In the words of journalist , revenge bedtime procrastination is when “people who don’t have much control over their daytime life refuse to sleep early to regain some sense of freedom during late night hours.” This is exactly why I was making cookies at 11 pm on a weeknight, and it was the same reason that I was horrified to crawl into bed without a functioning electronic.
There’s a scene in "The Mindy Project" (2012) where summons a flight attendant on a plane and says, “My TV is broken and I cannot be alone with my thoughts.” This is exactly the sentiment that I felt as I lay in bed that night with no power, cell service, or internet. I had just submitted my primary application for medical school, and instead of resting after weeks of work, my inclination was to keep running. I didn’t want to think about the potential mistakes that I had made, or all of the ways that I felt inadequate, or the things that I could have done to make myself a better candidate. I wanted to lay in bed and distract myself with a Netflix show until my eyes glazed over, and my arms grew limp by my sides, and I couldn’t stay awake any longer. I wanted to stuff my body full of sugar, and feel an influx of serotonin, and talk to my friend all night to avoid any encounter with silence. But there I was, stripped of my ability to cook, or watch TV, or go on the internet, or even call a friend. And it was horrifying. I had the idea to read a book in the dark, so I grabbed the closest one that I could find and turned on my flashlight. But as I flipped through the pages and began to read, the flashlight started blinking and malfunctioning. I sat dumbfounded in bed, beginning to accept my fate.
My revenge bedtime procrastination started much earlier than last summer. It stemmed from months of sleep-deprived semesters, and summer jobs, and countless hours working in anticipation of my future career. And while I believed that there is value in sacrificing immediate pleasure for a better future, I’d recently begun to think: when was I giving too much? If the only time that I ever felt satisfaction was in the two hours that I lay on my phone after dark, was I really living?
The concept of revenge bedtime procrastination is not just an isolated problem in my life–it’s a widespread phenomenon that is arguably aided by technological advancement. Particularly in college, I think that an inclination to constantly move, and consume information, and forego sleep often consumes us. And so, as I enter my last year as an undergraduate student, I have one resounding resolution for myself and for everyone who reads this: be present with yourself. It’s a lesson that I’m learning more and more every day, and something that I often have to force myself to do. But I’ve realized that if I need to enact “revenge” on my daytime work and distract myself in restful moments, then I’m living a life that’s not really my own.
The Student Movement is the official student newspaper of 老司机传媒. Opinions expressed in the Student Movement are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the editors, 老司机传媒 or the Seventh-day Adventist church.