Slave to the Schedule
The business of being alive is difficult… being truly alive, doubly so.
Of course by being truly alive I mean being something beyond a biological processor of oxygen and countless nutrients. At a certain age in adulthood, we bind ourselves to our work or family, fall into an efficient routine, and suddenly life is planned out for us – programmed, as it were, as if we were just machines built exclusively to perform an essential function for society.
Terry Schiavo might have lived a life of which few were envious, but it was a life not as different from ours as we’d like to pretend – just more obvious and honest.
While I originally chose the forces (i.e., wife, kids, job, community) that would act upon me as a free-willed adult, my schedule is now largely determined by others, leaving me to sleep-walk through the whole thing if I so desire.
On weekdays, I get up at 7am, wake the kids and prepare their breakfast while my younger son does his vest treatments, shower, get dressed, hop in my car (invariably late) and drive the fifteen minutes to work – catching Mike Evans’s daily blurb on celebrity and entertainment news if I’m lucky enough to be en route when he comes on. (Ooooh, high point of day.)
At work, I login, check e-mail, read the news, get my coffee, then accomplish whatever tasks have been assigned me by my boss.
Somewhere around noon, I eat my lunch at my desk and either write or read news on the ‘net. Then it’s back to work.
Exhausted, I leave at 5pm and drive the fifteen minutes home. Some nights, my wife kisses me and leaves for her part-time job. I make sure the kids are starting their homework and practicing their instruments. Brendan does another vest treatment for 30 minutes. Sometimes showers get thrown in there; sometimes chores need to be done and clothes need to be put away.
And that’s not mentioning throwing soccer practice or church youth or worship team or ballet lessons into the mix – more obligations to fulfill.
I make and serve dinner, then tuck the kids into bed. It is now 9pm. If I’m lucky, I managed to squeeze in a bike ride or computer game right after I arrived home (although even those pastimes become “part of the routine” – feeling like an essential breath amid the suffocation of the daily schedule). But usually if I do, I schlunk out on something else I should be doing.
Nine PM. Now I can do whatever I want (actually, only if there are not dishes to wash or a room to straighten up or clothes to put away or trash to take out) but every hour I stay up past 11pm is one hour where I rob my body of restorative sleep.
I could work on my writing or music, but I’m already exhausted and it’s difficult to focus on my tasks. I could watch TV or a movie, but afterwards it should be straight to bed – without a feeling of accomplishment. I can play computer games and feel productive – until I quit and face the reality that, in the Real World, I have done nothing but waste more time.
I can spend time with people, building those relationship, but feel even more discharged afterwards due to the energy I must expend to communicate. It tires me out more than invigorates me, much of the time.
And, of course, what about God?
Weekends offer more flexibility, but there’s still much time spent doing what should have been done during the week, doing large chores and projects, shuttling kids to soccer games, and going to church, among other things.
Is this what “truly alive” is supposed to mean? (I doubt it.)
And if you want to break the cycle, how on earth DO you?
Of course by being truly alive I mean being something beyond a biological processor of oxygen and countless nutrients. At a certain age in adulthood, we bind ourselves to our work or family, fall into an efficient routine, and suddenly life is planned out for us – programmed, as it were, as if we were just machines built exclusively to perform an essential function for society.
Terry Schiavo might have lived a life of which few were envious, but it was a life not as different from ours as we’d like to pretend – just more obvious and honest.
While I originally chose the forces (i.e., wife, kids, job, community) that would act upon me as a free-willed adult, my schedule is now largely determined by others, leaving me to sleep-walk through the whole thing if I so desire.
On weekdays, I get up at 7am, wake the kids and prepare their breakfast while my younger son does his vest treatments, shower, get dressed, hop in my car (invariably late) and drive the fifteen minutes to work – catching Mike Evans’s daily blurb on celebrity and entertainment news if I’m lucky enough to be en route when he comes on. (Ooooh, high point of day.)
At work, I login, check e-mail, read the news, get my coffee, then accomplish whatever tasks have been assigned me by my boss.
Somewhere around noon, I eat my lunch at my desk and either write or read news on the ‘net. Then it’s back to work.
Exhausted, I leave at 5pm and drive the fifteen minutes home. Some nights, my wife kisses me and leaves for her part-time job. I make sure the kids are starting their homework and practicing their instruments. Brendan does another vest treatment for 30 minutes. Sometimes showers get thrown in there; sometimes chores need to be done and clothes need to be put away.
And that’s not mentioning throwing soccer practice or church youth or worship team or ballet lessons into the mix – more obligations to fulfill.
I make and serve dinner, then tuck the kids into bed. It is now 9pm. If I’m lucky, I managed to squeeze in a bike ride or computer game right after I arrived home (although even those pastimes become “part of the routine” – feeling like an essential breath amid the suffocation of the daily schedule). But usually if I do, I schlunk out on something else I should be doing.
Nine PM. Now I can do whatever I want (actually, only if there are not dishes to wash or a room to straighten up or clothes to put away or trash to take out) but every hour I stay up past 11pm is one hour where I rob my body of restorative sleep.
I could work on my writing or music, but I’m already exhausted and it’s difficult to focus on my tasks. I could watch TV or a movie, but afterwards it should be straight to bed – without a feeling of accomplishment. I can play computer games and feel productive – until I quit and face the reality that, in the Real World, I have done nothing but waste more time.
I can spend time with people, building those relationship, but feel even more discharged afterwards due to the energy I must expend to communicate. It tires me out more than invigorates me, much of the time.
And, of course, what about God?
Weekends offer more flexibility, but there’s still much time spent doing what should have been done during the week, doing large chores and projects, shuttling kids to soccer games, and going to church, among other things.
Is this what “truly alive” is supposed to mean? (I doubt it.)
And if you want to break the cycle, how on earth DO you?
posted by Fortunato at 11:33 AM
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