Working Days

My days are very different now. I used to wake up with the sun, struggling up from the depths of the dark and into the half-light. Forced to interact, one took what pleasure one could. There was a lot of enjoyment in what I did, but it had little to do with the 10,000 steps (measured by pedometer) I walked each day, up and down the winding and baroque geometry of the old place; nor had it much to do with the random 12 hours of work, a lot of it mindless, that had to be done in every day. Badly planned, or not at all, seemed to be the order of those days.

But now, it is a lot more contingent on what I think. I have to structure my days. Generally, an early start, but not too early. A quick catching up with nutrients and the world's events. A couple of hours of work on my own projects. Lunch and time with people, or more work on my own. Then the students, miniature case-studies of cognition and despair. Dinner. Reading, perhaps a little work, rest. Relaxation.

I have a better awareness of who I am, and not how I am defined by the collective. I contain multitudes, as Whitman said. And yet, I am me.