Creature of Habit

Seriously. I've turned into just that, a creature. I've always been one for routines. I'm all about routines. I like their predictability and foreseeable outcomes. They allow me certain aspects of my life I can count on every time. It's my way of feeling like I have control of my life when, let's face it, I really don't, especially during times of commotion, change, unrule, and upset. Routines are good. I like routines.

I've noticed as of late, however, that such routines have turned into something far more than just the mundane practices of life. They've morphed themselves into something more--weird quirky habits.

• I use the very same bathroom stall every single time at school.


• I've become obsessive over making lists, and then promptly lose the lists, thus creating the need to make more lists.


• I go to and from my house the very same way every time when there's about a billion other ways I could go.


• My morning and nightly routines resemble each other exactly from day to day. Every part of the process is carefully crafted and has a very specific purpose for being in its particular place and time in the sequence.


• Showering: Shampoo my hair first. Wash my body while rinsing the shampoo out (That's right, simultaneous action). Next, apply conditioner to my hair. Whilst waiting for my hair to condition, accomplish any necessary shaving. Rinse out conditioner. Rinse out and hang loofah. One last rinse of the hair, and turn off the water, lower the shower trigger and wait for the last little gush of water out the faucet. The routine feels so utterly incomplete without that gushing. That could quite possibly be the most important part. Lastly, open the shower curtain from left to right. Never right to left. Shower routine complete.


• I use disgustingly similar words when people ask me what I study. Question: "What is your major?" Answer: "Communication Disorders." And since the majority of people don't really know what exactly that means, I add, "So like speech pathology and audiology." Wait for the awkward smiling and nodding of faked interest..."It's fun, (short pause with a shrug of the shoulders) I like it." Said in attempts to fill that so often uncomfortable pause, and there you have it. Word for word.


• The right zipper is zipped counterclockwise to meet the left zipper on the leftmost side on my backpack. Every time.


• To save face, I shall refrain from continuing, but you get the idea.

That's it. I've diagnosed myself as severely habituated. I've turned into a drone. Too many of my routines have turned to a new extreme of a strange and eerily repetitive nature without my realization. It's like a song stuck on repeat that won't turn off. Yuck.

Needless to say the past week I've made a conscious effort to use various toilets throughout the day, and have especially avoided the inner tendency and extreme urge to use them in any kind of pattern. Watch out, next week I may just zip up my backpack to make the zippers meet in the middle...but then again, just thinking about that makes my nose wrinkle. Baby steps.