Some people thrive on novelty. At the mere suggestion of a routine some will turn and run. I cannot fault others for acting in a way that is natural to them, but I am now certain (not that I shouldn’t have been before) that I thrive on routine.
I’ve found work, as a line cook at Chakra 4, a Tea House, Cafe, and Apothecary in Phoenix, conveniently close to home. I met the owner and head chef for an interview, then auditioned in the kitchen for 6 hours in exchange for some very good vegetarian food. They liked me, so I’m going to be working three days a week (Fri., Sat., Sun. just like the good old days). My regular shifts start this week.
I’m pleased to be back on a schedule. There was a certain pleasure in finding out how the day would unfold without a plan. Still, I find myself unexpectedly eager to return to a (partially at least) scheduled week. Perhaps 7 years of work and college have made me so used to routine that I don’t know how to function without it?
As with many things, matching is key. My psych research study was sent off to the publisher a few days ago. I’m very excited by the prospect of being a published scientist, but I’m trying to remain reserved, as the revise and resubmit process can be lengthy. My research showed a durable, easy to detect matching phenomena present in ratings of socially supportive others (family, friends, etc.). So too, personality-based dispositions to routine or novelty are least hindering when they are well matched with life circumstances in kind. So if I am a person of routine, then it makes good sense to create life circumstances that are well matched with this disposition. After a few weeks of not-quite listlessness, I seem to be finding a routine.
By the way, it is an interesting point of discord that I have the potential to be a published scientist in the next year, and I work for a vegetarian cafe inside an apothecary! My attitude with regard to my new employment is intentional inquisitive. Rather than make judgements about the claims of the herbalists, I intend to learn from them, and evaluate for myself once I’ve accumulated a working understanding of their domain of knowledge. At the sagely advice of my younger brother, after bemoaning my recent onset of studentshiplessness, I have made a conscious effort to engage with my new environment as a student of life. In this way, I am eager to discover how to employ Icelandic Moss in a health regime, and to brew a killer cup of loose leaf tea!
I first starting perseverating on routine when, exasperated (far out of proportion of the actual stimuli) over the dune-like shifting piles of papers and detritus strewn across the only counter in our studio apartment, I recalled a TED Talk from a modern anthropologist (I’ve lost the link sadly) who discovered through traveling the world and studying cell phone use, that a commonality across cultures is to have a focal point in a home where the items we carry during the day rest while we are at home. Often a table by the front door, or a bin on a shelf, this ritual-like behavior of unburdening oneself upon arriving at home by emptying one’s pockets into/onto this focal point is durable across widely varied cultures and SES (socioeconomic status). Suffering at my failure to locate my sunglasses (which I am reflectively embarrassed by) amongst the piles, I resolved, when the funds were available, to procure a wicker basket, which would live on the corner of the counter near the door and which would be my sacred focal point. A few days ago, during a trip to GoodWill to find a desk for our computer work, Lena and I purchased two small wicker baskets, which now serve as the calm eye at the center of a whirling storm of mess. The visceral sense of calm and satisfaction which I experienced from such a simple thing made writing about anything other than routine feel like a kind of denial.
I thrive on routine. The simple routine of keeping my keys, wallet, cell, and sunglasses (of maximal importance to have ready in a desert) in the same place (and subsequently having them accessible without requiring a safari) is startlingly pleasing. I was unaware of the magnitude of effect simple routines, or their lackthereof, have on me. I am not sure how to feel about being so subtly but powerfully influenced by something so tenuous. I variously feel grounded by the apparent constancy and foolish for clinging to ultimate transience.
Perhaps I worry too much. (I have been told this before.)
Lena is generally thrilled with her masters program. She is planning her masters thesis now, and is also eagerly diving into migration law and social justice, the umbrella theme of her research assistantship. She tells me about all of her interesting class discussions and readings. I have for some time been getting very good feminist training through her eagerness to share. I now look forward to learning about social justice and human rights with her. She has been very captivated by the area of research of her faculty mentor. He studies migration law. The terminology here is important. Illegal immigration is an oxymoron, for instance, because the term immigration refers to the lawful procedures which lead to legally recognized residence in a country. By definition, then, there can be no illegal legal path to residence. The term migration is a better fit for capturing the issues of interest regarding national borders and law enforcement.
She continues to work feverishly on oDesk as a writer and editor, an online marketplace for freelancers and employers. Her work ethic and dedication to her obligations is a standard we can all strive toward, me especially. I continue to carry a client from my time at GVSU’s Consulting Center. Phase two of my research with a legal nonprofit in Grand Rapids has begun, which is another long-term stretch of watching and waiting. In addition, I’ve just took on a client through oDesk myself. The project involves health psychology and medication compliance. I’m eager to get started, as the project will provide a challenge (and a wage).
Thats enough for now I think. The hour is late, and my brain is drifting from topic to topic readily enough that I worry my coherence will be impaired. Until next time.