The New Morning Ritual

The evolution continues.

I think about years working in New York City.  Getting up and out of the house at least ninety minutes prior to when I was supposed to be at my Manhattan office.  You needed all this time to get a good parking spot at the train station, procure a seat in the right car on Metro North, and then endure the day's weather as you plodded uptown upon leaving Grand Central Station.

In Los Angeles, I had a fifteen minute traffic-free ride in my car every morning.  No fuss, very little muss.  The only wrinkle was getting up at 5AM and being in the office by 630AM to accommodate the eastern time zone.

Today, on my own and happy to be so, my commute is 3 seconds.  Or how ever long it takes me to walk the five feet from my bed to my desk.

I rarely run into traffic.  If there's anybody in my way now, it's likely due to a home invasion robbery.

So, without a schedule imposed by somebody else, I now adhere to my own.  But one that I have robotically instituted in an all-important effort to establish a new routine.

A refined ritual, as it were.

Instead of rubbing my eyes at 5AM to my bedside clock radio set to KABC, I let nature poke me awake around 7AM.  It's amazing how your body adapts to a schedule.  My clock radio gathers dust now as opposed to turning on at 4:59AM.  

I have always been one to jump out of bed quickly.  Well, now, the jumping happens only after I have completely stretched out the rusty joints called my knees.  But, as always, I'm immediately alert and raring to go.

The computer goes on.  I immediately check out e-mails and the world.  If it has not exploded overnight, I move on.  I clear out some of the word plays made by those Friends on the east coast.  Q-I.  R-E-L-A-X.  D-I-T-C-H.  Done.

As if I am scheduled to be some place on time, I shave and shower.  That routine never varies.  Razor.  Deep face cleanser.  Sinus rinse.  The morning Pepcid tablet.  Shower stall.  Hair shampoo.  Soap up.  Rinse.  Hair conditioner.  More soaping up.  Rinse again.  

I dress, but now the major decision is which pair of jeans to wear with which polo shirt.  

I open the front door as I used to.  I pick up the morning LA Times.  I drink my orange juice.  I take my morning cocktail of 17 or 18 different vitamin supplements.  I toast my English muffin.  I flip through the newspaper.  I read the comics.  I solve the Sudoku.  Without a destination, I take ten minutes more for the crossword puzzle.  My mental calisthenics.  

Then I commute.  Into my bedroom/office.

And, for the next three or four hours, I do nothing but write.

Maybe it's this piece.

Or some e-mails to business associates working with me on some upcoming projects.  

Or a continuing rewrite of a script started fifteen years ago.  I get notes from friends on it.  I proceed to rewrite some more.

I wrap up a treatment for a dream project in my head for years.  Now it's on paper.  Literally.  I printed it out hard copy to be registered at the Writer's Guild.

I hear my cell phone ping.  Ah, another Word play.

Z-E-B-R-A.

By 10AM, I am in need of a coffee break.  I head into the kitchen and brew a cup in the new Keurig invention.  I bring it this morning's edition of hazelnut back to my desk as you see above.  I continue on.

Writing, writing, writing.

Without leaving the house, I have never felt more vital or alive.  There will need to be days and mornings where my focus will be have to be financially elsewhere.  That will come in due time.  For now....

Writing, writing, writing.

By noon, I have exercised my mind enough.  Time for lunch with a friend.  Perhaps it's one of the two days in the week when I exercise my body with the trainer.  Or, if it's every other Thursday, I have to leave the house by 10AM so my cleaning lady can Swiffer in privacy.  

It's a ritual.  It's mine for now.  It won't be forever.  But, as I think about my existence before, I have no idea how I managed to enjoy a life then.  

Because this is one nifty life today.

Dinner last night:  Travel day.  A Big Mac.