Within the structure of today’s society one is lucky if the traffic jam on I-10 forces the autopilot to take the passenger seat while you take back roads through neighborhoods so that the day can begin on time. Rush through Burger King, scarf down the fries, and inhale the coffee that keeps you going through the day; so you can get home and go through the Tuesday night routine of making dinner, watching the five o clock news while doing a load of whites which has your good blouse for the parent teacher conference tomorrow. Family dinner. Homework. Bed.
Busy. A word well versed in the vocabulary of Isabelle. Waking at six thirty AM, and arriving home at six thirty PM Monday through Thursday is my routine, with an hour drive each way to school, dance, then home, shower, dinner, homework, bed. Not to mention friends, dad’s house-mom’s house, little sister. Insanity is bound to occur. This is not to say that I do not enjoy my life or what I am doing. I love school, if I didn’t I would not be there for 60 hours a week. However, like anyone I can get caught up in my routine as a result of my scheduled days.
The saving grace comes to the rescue when I step outside of this ridged structure and play. When I pull over on my way to school to frolic in the flowers for five minutes, or sing a song at the top of my lungs while sitting at a red light. The sanity, if I am eligible to possess such a potent drug comes from the moments of spontaneity, when milkshakes, jungle gyms and mud fights take priority. It is because of these moments of pure excitement and madness that I am able to maintain a set schedule, a routine, something constant.
When I run in the august rain until my skin, clothes, and hair, surrender to the wet and my legs tire from running, I know I am alive. The feeling of passion in these moments is rejuvenating and reassuring that the life I am living is worthwhile and well spent.
I believe in spontaneity. I believe that anyone given a proper dose of spontaneous action will receive moments of bliss that would otherwise be overlooked as mundane.
When the autopilot of daily life takes the backseat, and I am able to escape the socially acceptable and let my wild side take over I feel alive. Spontaneity frees the crazy and keeps me sane. As sane as an eighteen year old girl with a desire for life can be.
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