I thrive on the predictability of my day. Take the two-egg scramble that I make for breakfast as an example: I turn the stove on HI for about two minutes, lather the skillet with prodigal amounts of extra-virgin olive oil, crack two eggs on the skillet and watch it sizzle. After waiting about ten seconds for the eggs to solidify, I demolish the unmarred surface of the egg with a metal spatula, until the egg is sufficiently scrambled, and I put it onto a medium-sized plate. You can see me perform this ritual twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays, at around 7:00 AM.
Conversely, I take even more pride in being able to act in a whimsical manner once in awhile. Recently, after an argument with my parents over my time commitment to extracurriculars, I suddenly decided to vent my anger in an outward direction instead of the usual inward grudge. I grabbed the long-bladed shovel from the garage and set to work on the empty grassland next to my house. I tore up the long grass, mashed up the dry dirt, and blackened my hands. Soon I was standing on a pile of dark soil, oblivious of the mud seeping through my socks, peering down into a hole that was as deep as my knee (trust me, I stood inside the hole to check). Digging this hole was my catharsis; I had uncovered the dirt that was weighing me down and now I felt emptied of my anger. When I felt sufficiently cleansed, I cut a few long stalks of wild grass down and lay it over the hole in a lattice. Walking back into my house, I was a bottle of mixed emotions. The scowl on my face to show my parents belied the joy that was within me. I had something special in that lot next to my house, and it was my secret. Digging the pit was like pulling the flush on a toilet; if things got too piled up, I could simply flush it out of my thoughts by working on this hole.
Reaching the equilibrium between structured and unstructured living is a goal in all of our lives, and one that no one achieves. But that is the struggle that makes life interesting and full of the surprises that characterize it.
Conversely, I take even more pride in being able to act in a whimsical manner once in awhile. Recently, after an argument with my parents over my time commitment to extracurriculars, I suddenly decided to vent my anger in an outward direction instead of the usual inward grudge. I grabbed the long-bladed shovel from the garage and set to work on the empty grassland next to my house. I tore up the long grass, mashed up the dry dirt, and blackened my hands. Soon I was standing on a pile of dark soil, oblivious of the mud seeping through my socks, peering down into a hole that was as deep as my knee (trust me, I stood inside the hole to check). Digging this hole was my catharsis; I had uncovered the dirt that was weighing me down and now I felt emptied of my anger. When I felt sufficiently cleansed, I cut a few long stalks of wild grass down and lay it over the hole in a lattice. Walking back into my house, I was a bottle of mixed emotions. The scowl on my face to show my parents belied the joy that was within me. I had something special in that lot next to my house, and it was my secret. Digging the pit was like pulling the flush on a toilet; if things got too piled up, I could simply flush it out of my thoughts by working on this hole.
Reaching the equilibrium between structured and unstructured living is a goal in all of our lives, and one that no one achieves. But that is the struggle that makes life interesting and full of the surprises that characterize it.
Nice observation about time structures! I relish the time I have on weekends and vacations where I am not bound to a daily routine. I have measured my attention span and patience towards something I am not actively interested in to only last 30 minutes, if I am fully awake. Many 45-minute classes drag towards the end, unfortunately.
ReplyDeleteI miss catching the bus I stopped taking at 7:05 am because I can't manage to wake up the additional 30 minutes earlier. Reading this post gave me some motivation to return to this schedule so I can enjoy the dark morning as long as it lasts into November until the time change ruins it for the rest of the school year.
I am curious: Do you have any plans for the hole you are digging?
Thanks!
DeleteNo, I don't... but I think that adds more fun to the concept of the hole. Right now I am just focused on the process rather than the product.
I can relate to your first paragraph on having a rigid routine. (On weekday mornings I always eat a bowl of frosted flakes.) I also enjoyed how you told the hole story, it was a good balance of narration and reflection.
ReplyDeleteI definitely agree with Roberto. My school morning routine hardly changes during the course of the year. Even more, your hole story is excellent! I've always wanted to dig holes in the back of my house, but my mom is always there to stop me unfortunately.
ReplyDeleteRoberto's point about you having a good equilibrium of narration and reflection is also very true. Great post overall!
I relate too--my morning routine is so concrete I barely think twice about what I'm doing from 7-8! I love the conclusion about finding a balance between structure and spontaneity. It really does seem like whoever could maintain that would have a perfect life. Apart from that, the hole story was great. I really enjoy learning all these surprise things about you! I would have never pictured Vinay tearing up dirt as an outlet. But I definitely understand it and I'm glad you're sharing!
ReplyDeleteI think I should adjust my days to be more like yours, Vinay. Fresh scrambled eggs twice a week? Sounds glorious, especially since I don't wake up early enough to have breakfast on school days. My morning ritual is mostly me ignoring all five of my wake-up alarms and scrambling to get ready and in the car (hey, one kind of scramble), and I think I find more structure in my night life and sleeping habits, or lack thereof.
ReplyDeleteIt's so interesting to read about your digging outlet, and it reminds me of your quiet apple nibbling in History these days (though I guess that's becoming part of your daily schedule). Thanks for always being a pleasure to read/observe!
This post leaves me wondering what you have for breakfast on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays (a nice note of mystery, perhaps).
ReplyDeleteI like your hole-digging story. I am a relatively patient person, but I've learned that my patience has a cost: I don't usually get angry, but when I do, I often realize (a moment too late) that it's been building up to the point where it's hard to control. I think digging a hole (or some similarly non-destructive manual labor) might be just the thing next time I find myself on the verge of blowing my top.
I think it’s interesting that you chose to dig a hole as a means to take out your frustration. It seems like such a peculiar thing to choose. You said you laid grass over it when you were finished. Is it dangerous? It sounds like someone/something could fall in if they’re not careful, like some sort of tiger trap. Or is your purpose to physically capture your various frustrations in that hole? At any rate, I’m curious if you’ll catch anything interesting in it by accident.
ReplyDeleteI covered it in grass mainly to keep it secret but also to make sure that not too much junk blew into it.
DeleteI was trying not to comment on every single one of your posts, but they are all so interesting! You're such a mysterious person that learning about these things is intriguing. I don't think I ever have enough determination to go out and dig for a while; my emotions are fleeting and I would have to be really furious to have enough anger to vent for that long.
ReplyDelete