Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Unroutine
“unroutine” isn’t a word.
1. I woke up at 10:45. No matter my intention of waking right at 8 or 11 or even 1 o’clock I always find myself up 45 minutes after the time intended. I give up. I will not succumb to using an irritating alarm clock that will only do what my mother could do herself. Yes, I am still a baby. This is all to say that I awoke at 10:45 on the dot.
2. I crawl from my bed at 11. Crawl is the verb I use and crawl shall be the verb of choosing. (Reminiscent of a Monty Python and the Holy Grail quote) I can seriously apply every line in that movie to real life situations. It is glorious!)
3. I stumble into the bathroom and then out. I forgot where I was going and decided to make a stop in the bath room for a short moment. Don’t ask me why. That’s a better question for my unconscious self.
4. I make my way to the stairs and took them down.
5. Once in the kitchen, only after I’ve dragged my body across the floor of the living room, I stand in the middle of the room for long moments of time just listening. You see, when my stomach growls I know that it is, in fact, time for food. If I listen closely enough I can actually hear it cursing profanely at me. On occasion it makes a small part of me feel satisfied to starve it for 12 hours straight. Then I feel guilty after. I of course, take into account that it also likes to embarrass me in public in Art History class. So the punishment is just. My stomach is a near completely separate entity and I must treat it accordingly.
6. I throw open the pantry doors searching with blood shot eyes for nourishment. At this point in the game my stomach has entirely taken me over and I act as my stomach feels.” Take the foods” that is what it says to me.
7. Once I find my cereal of choice I go to the cupboard and pick a certain deep red bowl and pull it out. I poise myself over the bowl to poor the cereal. At this point you can only guess what such a treacherous thing happens next. The cereal fell into the bowl.
8. I slip open a drawer and search for a spoon with a perfect luster and shape. Most always I find it. If I don’t I go hungry. Correction, my stomach goes hungry. You can only imagine what it says to me then.
9. The milk is next. I go for the milk. I did go for the milk. I went for it, really. I was bound and determined to have my frosted flakes that morning. Why do all mornings that start off well have to end so tragically?
10. There was no milk.
11. There was an image in my head of where the milk should be but as I reached for it my hands came up empty. Recounting this story has forced my stomach into a depression. Now, this italicized piece of my journal is null.
12. After I realized that there really was no milk in the house and using half and half in my cereal shouldn’t be an option, I sulked.
13. Sitting watching my bowl of cereal for 10 minutes was fun. It mocked me.
14. It called me names. Nasty ones.
15. It screamed at me, reminding me of my mother’s neglect. She didn’t buy me milk. No milk + no cereal = no breakfast multiplied by two subtracted from the sum of 8 and 94 and divided by the fact that my stomach was going to recreate itself in the form of a large heifer and run me over…until death. All of this said with out the help of a single italicized word. Six hundred and twenty seven points.
Six hundred and twenty seven points plus every numbered odd point I made times five.
Heh.
1. I woke up at 10:45. No matter my intention of waking right at 8 or 11 or even 1 o’clock I always find myself up 45 minutes after the time intended. I give up. I will not succumb to using an irritating alarm clock that will only do what my mother could do herself. Yes, I am still a baby. This is all to say that I awoke at 10:45 on the dot.
2. I crawl from my bed at 11. Crawl is the verb I use and crawl shall be the verb of choosing. (Reminiscent of a Monty Python and the Holy Grail quote) I can seriously apply every line in that movie to real life situations. It is glorious!)
3. I stumble into the bathroom and then out. I forgot where I was going and decided to make a stop in the bath room for a short moment. Don’t ask me why. That’s a better question for my unconscious self.
4. I make my way to the stairs and took them down.
5. Once in the kitchen, only after I’ve dragged my body across the floor of the living room, I stand in the middle of the room for long moments of time just listening. You see, when my stomach growls I know that it is, in fact, time for food. If I listen closely enough I can actually hear it cursing profanely at me. On occasion it makes a small part of me feel satisfied to starve it for 12 hours straight. Then I feel guilty after. I of course, take into account that it also likes to embarrass me in public in Art History class. So the punishment is just. My stomach is a near completely separate entity and I must treat it accordingly.
6. I throw open the pantry doors searching with blood shot eyes for nourishment. At this point in the game my stomach has entirely taken me over and I act as my stomach feels.” Take the foods” that is what it says to me.
7. Once I find my cereal of choice I go to the cupboard and pick a certain deep red bowl and pull it out. I poise myself over the bowl to poor the cereal. At this point you can only guess what such a treacherous thing happens next. The cereal fell into the bowl.
8. I slip open a drawer and search for a spoon with a perfect luster and shape. Most always I find it. If I don’t I go hungry. Correction, my stomach goes hungry. You can only imagine what it says to me then.
9. The milk is next. I go for the milk. I did go for the milk. I went for it, really. I was bound and determined to have my frosted flakes that morning. Why do all mornings that start off well have to end so tragically?
10. There was no milk.
11. There was an image in my head of where the milk should be but as I reached for it my hands came up empty. Recounting this story has forced my stomach into a depression. Now, this italicized piece of my journal is null.
12. After I realized that there really was no milk in the house and using half and half in my cereal shouldn’t be an option, I sulked.
13. Sitting watching my bowl of cereal for 10 minutes was fun. It mocked me.
14. It called me names. Nasty ones.
15. It screamed at me, reminding me of my mother’s neglect. She didn’t buy me milk. No milk + no cereal = no breakfast multiplied by two subtracted from the sum of 8 and 94 and divided by the fact that my stomach was going to recreate itself in the form of a large heifer and run me over…until death. All of this said with out the help of a single italicized word. Six hundred and twenty seven points.
Six hundred and twenty seven points plus every numbered odd point I made times five.
Heh.
Labels: alarm clocks, blog, cereal, Kayla Danielle, milk, morning, stomachs, unroutine, waking up
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