Oh, October

October is my favorite month of the year. It’s perfect sweater weather, perfect time for cider and pumpkin pie, crisp apples and falling leaves. It’s Autumn at its purest. It’s reading a book against a tree with no fear of ants crawling down your shirt. It’s the smell in the air, not quite snow but a whole lot different from the stagnant heat of summer. It’s the overcast afternoons and the starry nights, lit with bonfires….

And I’m spending the first weekend getting my wisdom teeth out and the last weekend in jury duty.

I wish I could enjoy the lovely Boston October, but I guess it will have to wait. Ah well, seasons are always lackluster compared to memories. I remember how exciting December was to me as a kid. Christmas felt like an indescribable miracle that such a day even existed. I would count the days, get a fragment more excited every hour that passed. I remember carefully picking out pajamas on Christmas Eve, so I would look nice in the pictures when I opened Santa’s presents.

Christmas Eve felt like a secret. You knew something amazing was happening the following day but there was nothing you could do but smile gently and wait til morning. October is a little like that. After all, the best day is Halloween on the 31st. You spend the whole month enjoying spooky movies and silly costume ideas, and then on actual Halloween you float through the day as if it were a dream. You dress in your costume like it’s made of icicles and attend your parties and eat your candies in a haze, and then it’s over, and October’s over, and it’s November.

There’s nothing good about November. For us in the states, we have Thanksgiving, which is just a glorified dinner, and Midterm Exams. It’s just a too-long wait til December. And after December? A far, far too long wait til summer.

I do feel lucky, being in the first day of my favorite month. I just wish I wouldn’t have to spend tomorrow getting my teeth pulled. No candy apples for me this year. I’ll have to double up on the pie.

On Rigorous Routines

The alliteration titles started as a coincidence, but I think I’m going to keep it up until the end of the week. It’s fun 🙂

Somebody wake up Green Day! Hah. Get it? Wake me up when September ends? Are Green Day relevant anymore? Well, whatever. I wanted to talk today about rigorous routines and whether or not they’re a good idea to have. I’m talking about the “wake up at the same time every day and do sit ups, meditate, take a shower, have a cup of tea, and then face the day” sort of routine. The sort of routine that is rigorous in how good it is for you. It seems intense but it’s calming. You don’t want to start but feel better once it’s done.

I used to be vehemently against those kinds of routines. I loved rolling out of bed 15 minutes before class, shrugging on a bra and tee shirt and trying to stay awake. I loved sleeping til the afternoon and not leaving my bed until three. I loved staying up until two or three or four when I had to be up at seven, I felt like nothing could be better.

Now I’m one of those people I used to roll my eyes at. I get up at least an hour before I have to. I get dressed, eat a nice breakfast, and actually do my makeup and hair. I make sure I have all my things, maybe do a little stretching, and then begin my day. At night, I have a little work out regimen I end with a few moments of meditation.

I feel great! No, really. I used to think solid sleep schedules were a myth, but they really do help you. I feel awake, alert, and ready. I feel good about myself and my appearance. I feel healthier and happier, and I never feel guilty of how much of my life I’m wasting in my bed.

Schedules are the closest thing to a ritual I have, and I firmly believe that rituals are something humans need. We like rules and order, we like repetition. It’s like music, it’s like dancing. We’re dancing our days, singing our mornings.

Good Morning! Let’s kick October’s ass.