This Old Routine

I have a daily routine. I get out of bed, maneuvering around all of the pets and Andrew sporadically placed around the bed and use the bathroom (with the door open because my cat Lorelai is like a two year old and can't stand to have a door or wall between us). I then weigh myself with one eye closed, one eye open in hopes that the number has somehow dropped. I slip on my bedroom slippers or flip-flops, whichever one is closer and I go downstairs, turning on the lights in each room I pass through. Leira follows me around the kitchen while I get the keurig started and set the oven on 350 to heat up my croissant (sometimes a piece of toast). Leira and I then go outside, she pees and I act elated, clapping my hands and exclaiming "good girl!" because she does her happy run with her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth each time I do this. (And let's be honest, nothing makes me happier than a happy Leira dog.) We come inside and I finish fixing both of our breakfasts. We then head upstairs where I check my Facebook, play a few words on words with friends and check my email. Leira then goes back to bed and I shower and get ready for work. I go to work, wash dirty dishes, get exam rooms set up for the day and restock drawers. My co-workers and I then take turns getting histories on patients and performing routine veterinary procedures. Some days I have a dental to do or a surgery to monitor. I sometimes don't get a lunch but when I do, I sit in my car, read my book or take a nap. Once my hour is up, I head back to work and do the same routine over and over again. I come home, hug Andrew, ask how his day was, say hello to the pets, change out of my work clothes and then make dinner or order a pizza. We eat on the couch in the living room and watch t.v. Sometimes we go for a walk. I then go to bed and read and/or fall asleep.

I might come home from work with a different bruise here and there but essentially, every day is the same. I've found that I spend a lot of my "extra" time on Facebook, checking out people's status or looking at their pictures. I get so caught up in their lives that I don't even realize the time I am spending away from my own. It's so easy to escape into the world of pinterest and amazon.com that I forget that I have goals that need to be met and dreams that need to be lived.

It's almost like I'm running away from myself.

It's easier these days to send a text or an email to our loved ones. I used to write letters to my grandmother when she was still alive. We would correspond back and forth and send pictures to each other of our pets. When I was in college, I barely ever wrote an email. I spent a lot of my time writing real letters to friends and family across the miles, explaining each detail of my life to them one page at a time.

I miss the feeling of opening the mailbox to find that I have a letter with my name and address written in the center  of an envelope that holds pages of words to be read that are meant only for me.The world has become too quick. An email is delivered within seconds whereas a letter can take days to arrive. There is no longer any suspense; no excitement. The social network allows us to post and comment on pictures instantly. Digital cameras help you to relive the memories you just made merely seconds later. These aren't necessarily bad inventions. I myself post a new set of pictures often, usually weekly. It's amazing how quickly I share snapshots of my life with 416 people of whom most I haven't spoken a real word to in years.

I sometimes miss the life I had before I ever got involved in the whole social network phenomenon. I don't know what it is that sucks me in every day. I almost become zombie-like and end up running late for work because I let the time get away from me. I feel safe and secure without feeling safe and secure. There is always some prickling feeling nagging at me and I think I finally figured out what it is.

I live in my favorite place in the entire world. The beauty I'm surrounded by on a daily basis is almost intimidating. Every time I visit downtown Asheville, I am presented with something or someone different; a girl dancing by herself on the sidewalk to music only she can hear, a guy painted in silver from head to toe including his guitar, middle school kids on the street singing Beatles' covers, skipping, frolicking, hoola hooping...all of the above can be seen at any given moment. Some people, maybe most, might pile this group of people into a list of "freaks". Not to me. To me, they are my heroes. They have lost the sense of caring what someone else might think of them should they want to start singing out loud as if they were in a musical or Broadway play. (In my ideal world, this would be how life should be anyway.) I somehow lack the sense of energy to just let go. The shy girl inside of me tells me I can't do it while the dreamy, hippie chick screams out to be set free to come out and play.

I find myself hiding behind the words I write on my status, always trying to think of something clever, positive or brilliant to say, even when I feel anything but clever, positive or brilliant. I use this very blog to speak out on feelings I've had or felt about  during my past, present or future...but I still hold back, somehow still unable to completely break free.

It's easy to use the social network as a mask to hide from the rest of the world. We're taught to use our inside voices and to act "normal", justifying each excuse not to be different or to break away from the group. Facebook gives us an excuse to act upon or say things that we wouldn't usually say in a real social setting. As usual, I find that I am in the minority in that I spend most of my time avoiding such confrontation. I hide more because I fear I might hurt someone's feelings should they not share my same opinion or that my own feelings might become hurt because I am so sensitive about every little thing. 

I'm tired of hiding. I'm tried of being scared; being held back. I'm tired of being my worst enemy and finding that it is only myself, and always has been myself, that keeps me from being the complete person I strive to be.

I need to break away from the routine.

Maybe tomorrow I'll eat a doughnut.

"This old routine will drive you mad
It's just a mumble never spoken out loud"
First Aid Kit