Warning: The views in the following section are not endorsed by the Department of Health or the Department of Education. Results may vary.
When Bill Clinton was at Georgetown, a saner professor told him great people conditioned themselves to sleep 4-5 hours a night. The simple reason being: you get more done. Bill Clinton applied the theory in his dorm room that night and remembered it well during his famous all-night pizza meetings at the White House. (Warning #2: The Bill Clinton Sleep Schedule is not to be confused with the Bill Clinton Sleeping Around Schedule.)
When I was on a high school tour, the scruffy tour guide mused you can attain two of three things at school. You can 1) learn a lot, 2) meet interesting people, and/or 3) get great sleep. I never saw the kid again. I didn’t even get into the school. But I never forgot his tip. And I don’t understand why anyone would pick any combination other than 1) and 2).
Stay up late, my high school buddy, always said. Just stay up late. And the less compelling the reason, the better. “Mad Men” marathon at 12:27 AM? Watch. A random Spice Girls reunion concert on a school night? Go. The most intriguing conversations happen then. These are the times when the “remember the time…” stories are minted.

“Those were the days” adults reminisce wistfully about school. And those Raman Noodle-fueled late-nights? Those are the hours. I can’t tell you anything about my high school papers except they probably had “needs more development” and B+ scrawled in red ink on them. But I recall every vivid detail of our spontaneous sledding trip the night before finals.
After a while, my buddy said, you almost hate sleep. You see those restless, toss-and-turn hours as the most wasted hours of all. So give me 4 or 5 hours, a shower, and let’s get on with it. Today You grumbles at Yesterday You for a while. You may say something odd in 9 AM Marketing class. But then you remember the impromptu 1:17 AM dance party or the roommate’s spot-on George W. Bush impersonation. You laugh maybe a little too loud to yourself, in maybe a little too packed library or Subway car. Then you sigh: time to prove your worth a damn. Crack the menacing Capital Markets book. And go out and earn tonight.
So that the next morning you can grumble at the blaring alarm clock: not again.
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