Agent of Chaos

If the Joker is an agent of chaos, he must be my spirit animal. At least recently. It’s been a while since I sat down and felt like writing. It’s not that I’ve been avoiding it, it’s not like I have nothing to say, and it’s not like I didn’t wish that it never went away. Things just came up. I won’t say that I didn’t have time, but instead I chose to engage in other activities. Priorities, I would say. Like my video about the very same topic. Plus, you know, summer.

But it’s been more than just that. Change is something that I normally embrace and typically have no issue with, but, as those close to me are aware, the changes in my life register relatively large on the Richter Scale of life, sending vibrations through my entire experience that reverberate loudest when it’s the quietest.  I’ve reconnected with folks at a higher frequency in the last month, and depending on the length of time between our last conversations, assuming it’s 2 years or less, I could be employed at one of four companies, residing at one of three apartments, and driving one of two vehicles, not to mention my fluctuating relationship status during that time. Admittedly, these life changes have been instigated by me, and I’m not assigning blame, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t ripples that have penetrated me, legitimately affected me to the core, and shaken my day-to-day routine.

Routine is the word on which I would like to focus. At the beginning, priorities set your world in place. While I can quote myself by saying ‘every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every month of every year is a choice,’ the truth is you don’t make a choice every second. Or, I should say, the choices become simplified and the answer becomes repetitive. I don’t have to decide to go to work each day. While some might call the office life a droning existence sequestered in tall cubicle walls, the fact of the matter is I enjoy my job, I enjoy the company I work for and the people I work with, and aside from the occasional late night event, I have very few if any issues with waking up before sunrise and trudging through now-school-in-session bolstered traffic patterns every weekday morning. Because even though it sounds monotonous and restricted, it’s also routinely and comfortable.  I don’t live a boring life and if my time spent away from the office can contain as much activity as possible, the eight or so hours in the office don’t need to titillate my nerves and stimulate my eagerness to be alive. I’ve been fortunate enough to find a career that’s challenging and creative and suits my skill set, so there’s no concern on that front.

I don’t know many people that don’t enjoy be comfortable. For the occasional person, being comfortable means inducing chaos, but that’s rare. And even in those circumstances, there are almost always aspects of their life that could be considered routine or boring or safe or comfortable, from food to a bicycle to their partner. For the rest of us, getting into a routine feels less like a rut and more like a groove; same general principle, but a significantly different connotation. And that’s where I like to be, in a groove. When you’re in a groove, it feels like you are on the same frequency as the universe. Like you’re behind the cosmic curtain and finally understand how shit works. When you’re putting dishes away and a glass falls, you have the unbelievable sensation of gravity and special recognition to catch it before it shatters on the kitchen floor. It’s like when Kerry Wood would backhand a ground ball with his back to the batter; some things just come naturally when you’re connected to the moment.

I don’t really have any of that right now. There’s days I get in my car and don’t know where I’m supposed to drive to get to work. Or I run up and down two flights of stairs because I forgot where I put my shoes. Or I run to the car in the rain because I forgot I keep my umbrella under the seat. Or I bang my head on the pole in the closet because the ceiling in my room gets shorter as you go wider. Or I bang my foot on the trash under my desk. Or I jump into bed without turning the light off. Or I re-park three times because I can’t fucking figure out how to get my car to stop in a straight damn line. I would have locked my keys in my car four different times since I bought the thing in October if the car wasn’t smarter than me and says, ‘Hey, you, dummy, I’m not going to let you lock me because your only means of getting me back open are sitting on my scolding hot black leather, you idiot.’ My car can be snotty, apparently.

This isn’t a cry for help or even complaining. From top to bottom, as I reconnect with folks that I’ve missed over time, I can honestly say that I’m still happy and I like the direction that my life is going. For now, and I don’t know for how much longer, it feels like the Earth is spinning a little faster and I’m just trying to hold on. Every change has come with a period of adjustment. When those changes overlap, the period length tends to multiply. My only choice is to embrace the chaos until a routine resurfaces.

The end of summer is a shit-show, so just run with it. Book and double-book my calendar. Over-extend while I have the flexibility. And ultimately learn something about myself. I already know that I like routines and patterns and grooves, but if you always do what you’ve always done, you won’t grow. So instead of feeling like I need to hold on, a bigger part of me feels like I need to let go. Only then can self-development and self-discovery take place and continue to take place.

Self-discovery is not a destination but a lifestyle.