Routine Maintenance

     I need to start posting more, for the therapeutic effects of writing, and for the positive way this blog affects me (notice my hopefully correct use of effect and affect). In the summer of 2010, I made the outrageous claim that I would post every day, and to no surprise, I didn't.
     I got to sleep in today and yesterday. It felt great. My schedule this year is so rigid. I feel like a robot. In the past, I felt no need to adhere to the routine. I could skip out on classes and assignments because it didn't feel important. And now, heading into the third week of my most important semester so far, I have to be the routine. Live it, breathe it, eat it, drink it. If I allow my self to slack off even just a little bit, my apathy will grow exponentially, like a snow ball down a hill (in case it isn't clear, the hill in question is covered in snow).
     The problem is I do not feel like me. It is not because I am finally doing well, nor the fact that I am on medication for my attention disorder. It is hard to find the words for it. The closest thing I can think to compare it to would be changing from a type "B" personality (in terms of how one feels stress) to a type "A". My mind, my personality, the very essence of what makes me me, shuts down when life gets rigid and lets auto pilot take over. So I end up just zombieing through the weeks, unable to enjoy the few moments of true free time because of the dread that soon I will have to go back to the routine.
     I feel the same way I did in high school, and to say the least it freaking sucks. Old habits are returning that I had struggled long and hard to escape from. The one thing I do enjoy, however, is the return of my urge to play my guitar more often and get better. It is soothing to me to try to create the beautiful, whether with words, colors, or sounds. I have been playing much more in the past two weeks than I have in a few years (since high school), and I can feel myself becoming familiar with my instrument again. Running my fingertips over the warm, sensuous form of my guitar is almost like embracing a long absent lover, exploring every inch of familiar inviting skin. I feel connected the me that has been away for a long time.