UNDER THE MICROSCOPE

NEW SPECIMENS OLD SPECIMENS THE SCIENTIST MY LOG CONTACT ME
2001-10-22 - 6:09 a.m.

REGULARITY

Mr. Philately does not understand my drive to post something every single day. Heck, some days I don�t understand it either. Although I wrote no journal at all until I began this online one, this one is one I need to write. Not writing just feels wrong.

I wish I could explain my drive by saying that it results from the pressure of things to say. Sometimes it does. I recognize that motivation when the entry just pours out and only needs a very light edit. I recognize it when the time between sitting and finishing seems only a few seconds. This place has become where I process my world on paper as I cannot do out loud.

The pressure of things to say, however, cannot explain those days when I start, I stop, I erase, I shelve, and I dawdle. If I were burning to say something those days surely the raging fire within would spread across the page and, ultimately, burn up the telephone wires as I posted. At the very least, what I was burning to say would be clear to me, if not well-written the first time.

No, the explanation surely is something beyond the writing. It�s more basic. While I balk at the schedules others impose, I need schedules and rituals as much as one sock needs another. The solo socks sitting in the special, ratty laundry basket, waiting for a mate or Godot, whichever comes first, do nothing useful. Without a schedule, I cannot overcome inertia.

Even when I was a work solely at home mom, I had a schedule. I was the mother who, absent a sick child, would always show up to Music with Mom or whatever silly class I took with my kid. If I didn�t show up, how would I be sure it was Monday? If I didn�t show up, how would I be sure I would make it to the store later that day? Deep down, I always feared that if I stopped requiring myself to put one foot in front of the other for a destination, I�d just stop walking.

Similarly, I have morning rituals. I make occasional changes to that ritual but, once adopted, parts of that ritual stay if for no other reason than they are the ritual. Get up, check that I hear Kat, take a shower, turn on the computer, post the entry, and eat breakfast.* If I stopped writing, I�d be clean but I might forget to eat. It could happen, you know. Ritual doesn�t always save me from the occasional lapse that results in the milk in the cupboard and the Cheerios in the refrigerator but it makes it less likely.

I�ve always adapted reasonably well to the big things, but I resist the little changes. Not writing is a little change. Adapting would be close to hopeless unless I made it a big change by vowing never to post again. Failing to post could wreck my whole day. It could threaten my sense of who I am. You wouldn�t want me wearing a name tag just so I knew who I was, would you? (On second thought, don�t answer that!)

You stay regular your way; I�ll stay regular mine. Yes, Mr. Philately, there is a Monday�and it�s made possible by the Monday entry.

___

*Mornings in hotel rooms, of course, have a ritual all their own. They require clothes laid out in proper order. As my kids learned long ago, move those clothes and Mom falls apart.

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