my morning

In my creative writing class today, we did this in-class writing activity for which we were instructed to describe in detail what we had done that morning. It was to be a blow-by-blow account covering the period of the time from when we had woken up until we had made it to class (it was 9:30am). Fun assignment. Easy. Telling, too. It’s one thing to write what you did. It’s another thing to hear other people read what they wrote and to hear what they have to say about what you wrote. People have different perspectives.

The exercise was meant to show that the reader can come to know the character through observing details about what he/she does rather than needing explanations of the character’s psyche. It’s how we come to know people in our daily lives anyway. The weird part was that, after hearing my morning story, the other people in the class were able to make conclusions about my personality that I hadn’t even been directly meaning to convey.

“I set two alarms, one by my bed so I can snooze a few times in preparation for the idea of waking up, and one across the room that’s for real. Today I was up at 8:15.

I don’t like to take a shower first thing, or even change, because I’m always cold. First thing this morning I threw on a sweatshirt and ambled out to the kitchen to have cereal—müslix with yogurt.

My roommate was already up, heading out to the door. I talked with her a bit as I packed tuna fish for today’s lunch. She woke up this morning already so stressed out by school that she was breaking down. She wanted to know if I’d be back to the apartment during the day today so I could pick up mail from the office. She hadn’t been home during the day at all this week, poor thing. Today I won’t either.

That meant packing my backpack for the whole day: food, books for creative writing, notebook, French books to study at the café if I find time. Music books are already at school. And still I forgot to bring harp strings.

After getting dressed and bundling up in coat and scarf, I waited for the bus from inside the apartment. From there, because we’re so close to the street, you can see it coming and have time to get out there to catch it. I take the 13 Silver from Atrium apartments up on Lincoln to the transit plaza on Wright st. I have to leave 30 minutes early for class.”

It was a pretty true account of what sorts of things generally occupy my attention in the morning before leaving for class.

I got pegged as a “planner.” Hmm.

Hearing it put that way made me feel categorized. “Control freak.” “Obsessive compulsive.” Categories are generally useful ways to manage information in your mind, but you don’t usually categorize yourself. I’ve always just seen it as: planning things out in the morning helps me make better use of the limited amount of time that I have to work with in the day and to juggle all the things I have to accomplish. I am a planner, it’s true. Now I’m wondering if this need to have so much control over my life is a handicap. Maybe this creates undue stress when things slip out of my control. But isn’t that the case for everybody? Am I too rigid? Colleen once observed about me “You seem to want the image that comes with being someone who is wild and reckless without actually having to risk any of the consequences.” I’m a planner and I’m also very careful. Hmm…