routine and decay
oh isn't Monday just a double-edged sword? I hate going back to work with the daunting prospect of five days ahead of my next Saturday (esp when that Saturday will bring Neko Case LIVE to my ears), but I also have a lot of momentum and plenty to do, usually (i.e. i looked at the clock and suddenly two hours had passed).
i am such a night owl! i cannot bring myself to fall asleep before midnight, though i often start my nightly ritual around 10:30 pm. Nightly ritual includes the following (and almost always in this order (i swear, i am not a freak, just highly structured - and i don't freak out if this routine can't happen - except for the starred elements, these are necessary for sleep)):
- Take Vitamins (multi/fish oil/lysine)
- Hot (scalding) bath with book or magazine (30 min)
- Lotion body
- PJs*
- Remove Eye Makeup
- Wash Face*
- Tone face
- Brush teeth*
- Night face cream, night eye cream*
- Wander into bedroom
- Fold bed down (husband already usually fast asleep - he works at 4am)
- Heavy cream for hands and feet
- Chap stick* (burt's bees all natural, thank you very much)
- Prop up pillows
- Journal and/or read*
Yes, so last night when I finally put down my book, it was close to 1am. I love the night time, my mind comes alive with ideas and inspiration. I find the world quite over-stimulating in general; therefore, when it finally goes to sleep, I feel I can now find the peace and quiet to sit still, ease out of the day's restlessness, and listen to my insides. It's a terribly necessary, soulful part of my day.
For instance, last night's journal entry gave me some necessary mental goals for this week about shopping, relationships, eating, and nurturing myself through a hyper-sensitive phase...if I had omitted that from last night, I think today I would feel even heavier...and dearies, Monday is already
heavy
enough.
I know plenty of people that do not need routine or ritual (hubby being numero uno (when I am out of town and I call at 4pm and he is just then making lunch, I experience a not-so-slight shock to my system)) - and I am unabashed in my perplexion of this - excusing it to the omnipresent mantra "to each their own." I think my mother was very structured (kids need this) and so I piggy-backed those needs of hers onto my day - consequently, she is also highly-organized, a capable leader, a night-owl, an introvert, a late riser, and a fabulously good house-cleaner (all of which I am proud to say are qualities I share).
I truly believe that my structured life acts as a means for me to alleviate the constant pressings of worry on my life. If I make sure to add something to my routine, I don't have to fret about remembering to do it. I won't wake up in 30 years with saggy lines on my face because I didn't apply my night cream, darn it! I very well may wake up with saggy lines anyway, but it won't be because I was inattentive or a poor steward of this body. (I live in rather high-expectations of myself...and for the most part do find that I can meet those expectations. Except for when it all comes crashing down on what Joel likes to term Friday Night Meltdowns. I will spare you the messy details, but how vexatious indeed!).
Please feel ye not judged, I simply wish to present this thought: If people would experiment more with the patterns of their day - I think they would find two things.:
1) Structure/routine/planning is one of the most useful combatants to idle depression and
2) Routine cannot cure the soul's ailments for life's quest for meaning (number 2 being my current didactic speech to self).
I think the next thing to add is to structure-in/routine-in some exercise - because I am constantly anxious about how little I use my body and how irresponsible of me it is - and how if I just DID it, I would certainly love it more. Also, it would surely help the anxiety I cannot fucking shake these last months AND assist my peace of mind as I seek to reestablish a healthy weight-loss regimen.
I have of late been overwhelmed by the talent of others - of Miss Plath's Journals, of McCullers, Mr. Steinbeck of understanding that they:
a) make writing look MUCH too easy
b) are more talented than I can ever wish to be
both of which i find discouraging, yet despite these discouragements they:
a) inspire me to write
b) are simply humans "telling men's hearts of the hearts of men centuries dead" (Shapiro)
and that's all i am. a human female. .
a human lady comprised of bones, blood, tissue, nerves, and soul. a human who will someday not feel the pen in her hand or touch joel's smooth face or breathe the forest air or eat gobi gosh or be anxious about how to be wise with money, but the very hand i use to deftly type these nonsensical words will decay...yet these words never will.
you know, for having no living tissue, words sure are stalwart sons of bitches. My words very may will be the only me that lives on, especially if I remain childless (are children just another vain attempt at man's desire to be immortal?) If this is the sad state of decay, perhaps I should write more. It may be my only lineage.
Befuddled and Pensive,
crm
13 comments:
"Everyone knows they're going to die, but nobody believes it. If we did, we would do things differently."
-Morrie Schwartz
http://lib.lbcc.edu/handouts/morrie.html
Bon soir mon soeur;
Some interesting thoughts about routine and structure...I do not share that craving or need for structure in the same way. I have no routines that I do that give me peace on a daily basis. But I do identify with you in a desire for rhythm--a sense of structure in my life if not necessarily in my day. A sense that my life is progressing toward something and not just meaningless day piled upon meaningless day until "my body decays".
I have struggled with these questions of, "To what is my life amounting?" and "When will I really begin to feel that I--me--JULIE--am fulfilling exactly that niche that I was created for?" And I find myself looking for something to dive into either to distract me or to motivate me: exercise videos (from the 90s of course), books I can lose my day in, or contemplating taking classes just to FEEL like I am in school again...but what always stops me is a feeling of--to what end? to what purpose do I work toward?
SILENCE.
I don't know.
I continually find myself DECIDING to be centered. To be confident not knowing where I am going or what I am doing or what I want to do. To know myself in the unknown.
...but I'm not always good at it. And sometimes it's just fucking annoying watching people strive past you with goals and drive and success.
...And I'm working at the fucking Cheesecake Factory.
Not to sound completely unhappy or anything--I'm not. Just identify with your frustration. Befuddlement. This is the area of my life that I shake my fist at God. "GIVE ME A PURPOSE--A DIRECTION!!!!"
happy 9 o' clock, mme. given that i'm waiting for my newly purchased copy of The Devil Wears Prada to arrive in the mail, i'm going to envision the beginning of this administrative day unfolding like the beginning of that movie: beautiful garments being carefully pulled onto beautiful people...
anyway, this writing of yours strikes me again with the somewhat uncanny similar-streak that seems to run through us at times. the VERY first line of my journal for yesterday (monday): "i know it can't be true, but today i feel i've never felt heavier in my life." enough said.
your lamentings/rejoicings about being a night owl resound clearly as a bell in the rooms of my own life. if i don't start off to bed by 10, i'm sure to be up until at least midnight, often later (why does it take so long to brush my teeth, wash my face, and wind down?? but it's so much more than that as we know).
"highly-organized, a capable leader, a night-owl, an introvert, a late riser, and a fabulously good house-cleaner." i absolutely share ALL of those qualities, ESPECIALLY the late riser, except not, because i cannot be a late riser save for certain glorious saturdays.
being a human female feels quite...visceral some days, does it not? and other days so light and dreamy. here's to the gritty and the ethereal both.
p.s. The Noisy Plume and I met face-to-face for the very first time at a Neko Case concert in Chicago. The year was 2003. I had hair to my waist and she was even smaller than I thought she'd be. Le Fin.
Wow I learn as much from your comments as I do from your blog.
jhm - i appreciate it when you are making buscuits in our kitchen and we randomly start talking about death, perspective, affection, and the stars. your being provides me with such deep fulfillment, my love.
jrm - sister, yes...a direction indeed. i think i am beginning more and more to imagine that the struggle to find the purpose IS the purpose. the direction is simply to live - to find meaning in your soul's journey towards love, towards others, towards yourself. i also think that is why i surround myself with the thoughts of past great writers - to understand that i am by no means the first human to struggle with this question - and in that i find great comfort, knowing that i am in trustworthy, divine hands.
kjk- it is so remarkable to me how my life has been enriched by the stumbling upon of one person's blog (jsl). she has introduced me to myself in new ways and now i get to know you and have a pen pal with whom i am eerily similar in tastes and moods. and swooon over meeting at Neko Case...
elp - i know some rather enriching and inspiring people, and i am honored to have them grace me with their thoughts in relation to my thoughts.
this exchange, this banter, this collaberation deeply fufills me.
because do we reallly live at all if we live without noticing it?
A night time routine is not something I know. Night is not my soul's partner but her enemy. Morning, however, is the beautiful bliss of routine.
Wake: 5:30am. 5:35am. 5:37am. Never rise on an even number.
Put in Richard Simons, work out.
Downstairs, wash, brush, dry.
Upstairs, peaceful finding of clothes for the day. Choose morning movie (unless it was already chosen the previous day and unfinished... this happens often), straighten hair, be creative with my make-up(necessary part of deciding to grow up as a woman), dress. Turn off TV. Read (Vanity Fair back issues at the moment.)
Pick out shoes. Downstairs, Grab oatmeal, head out the door. Listen to any selection of jazz, if it is gloomy, or classic rock if the sunshines. Waiting impatiently for Oct. 15th, when Christimas music and will reign for two whole weeks.
I somehow think the night routine would help put less stressful finish on my day.
Vexatious indeed... I appreciate your suggestion to experiment with patterns of the day. It is true that planning and structure helps me stay sane when the whimsical openness of life stretches out ahead much too far. I have lots of free time right now but it doesn't feel very free because I often fail to be intentional. Structure can produce a pseudo-intentionality (although intentionality can also be expressed through scheduling). Life with less structure makes it far more difficult for daily choices to be prioritized appropriately.
I crave the quiet inspiration that night brings! My home is clean, everyone is tucked in bed. It gives me a kind of satisfaction, my calm after the storm. My job does not permit me to be a total night owl, but I just can't help it at times! Late nights and early mornings definitely do not mix!
On routines... I have been hoping for this for some time! We have been in an upheaval for so long now and I enjoy a day that is mapped out. Now that we are in our new home I am doing my best to settle into this, but I guess this takes time.
Routine is only good when splashed with spontanuity of course (such as last minute trips to Vegas!).
Neko Case.
Be still my heart.
She and I met in grade 9 for the first time. I haven't turned back since.
It's true, KJK and I first met each other in Chicago to the tune of Neko. It was a MOST perfect meeting. Sing along to Deep Red Bells for me please.
On routine:
I can't ever hang on to one.
I've tried many times in the past couple of years to establish a bedtime, morning time, exercise time, work time....it hasn't ever stuck with me though.
I just wake up whenever I wake up, do what ever I want during the day and then fall into bed at 3AM. My life is complete chaos, I'll be the first to admit it. I need complete flexibility. But I don't think I would function the way I want to if every moment was locked up in a small box and tied up with ribbon and a tag stating "Open at such and such a time..."
PS I hate cleaning. I recently discovered this is in keeping with my Meyers Briggs temperament.
oh my dear jsl - there is much that fits in your MB personality. Many do not require routine at all for peace of mind, but often need structure.
I pose that structure and routine are different, non? I bet you are more structured than you might imagine.
The ENFP are the ones that can stay home and still thrive(hello kelly and jillian).
grade 9, you say eh? you canadian you.
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