I know I’m not the first by any means to declare that there should more hours in the day. In fact, I’m probably the last. But oh how I need those hours. Just a few more. Maybe three or four more. I need them desperately. You see, there is so much I want to do and need to do and not enough time to do them in. The only thing that gets accomplished on a day to day basis is driving to work, working and driving back home, followed by a rapid draining of energy and me lying on the couch, tired and listless, even before I get a chance to do just one thing I had marked on my mental to-do list. Before I know it, it’s 12:30 a.m., and just as my energy is starting to come back, I have to go to sleep so that I have enough strength to repeat this routine all over again.

I’m not a fan of routines. That’s probably the reason why I’m so passionate about journalism, a profession that is the antithesis to following the same mundane and redundant lines of life on a daily basis. This is also why I’m not as organized as I’d like to be, which is just a nice way of calling myself messy. Yes, this is why. This is why I promised myself as a teenager that I never want to be employed anywhere that reminds me of “Office Space,” this is why cubicles scare me and make me really uncomfortable, even though I’m in one all day, this is why I never wear the same thing to bed twice in a row. This is why you’ll hear the faint sound of crunching and find Henry eating at 11:30 p.m. at night. My disdain for routines obviously translates well and is probably horrible for dog training.

Routine, derived from French, means “usual course of action, beaten path” as defined by the “Online Etymology Dictionary” by Douglas Harper.

People love routines. Even if they don’t, they’re necessary to function in life, or so we’re told. Exercise routines, morning routines, routines for children, routine medical procedures, a comedian’s routine. They’re everywhere, and it’s been made pretty clear that without them you fail.

Think about the time you spent in school. All those years, while you might have learned something about history, science, music and English, were really meant to instill routines in you, so that you’re prepared for your potential career. The way you’re required to be in class at a certain time, the seating arrangements, the grades you receive, the bell ringing to let you know class is over. Sure, school might be about acquiring knowledge, but it’s also mostly about acquiring routines that are meant to prove useful later in life.

Anyway, I’m not sure where exactly I was going with this schpeel, other than to say that I’m tired of the routines in my life that are keeping me from doing things I’m passionate about. I’m tired of the wasted hours on the road and my inability to pursue projects that have been lingering in the back of my mind. I’m tired of being tired. I hate complaining about not having enough time. I wrote a quote here a while back by H. Jackson Brown, Jr. that went “Don’t say you don’t have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michaelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein.”

It’s so true. I shouldn’t say I don’t have enough time. If the aforementioned few aspired to greatness, I can too, with the same amount of time as they had. Then again, Mother Teresa, Hellen Keller or da Vinci never experienced the wrath of Los Angeles traffic in the mornings and evenings. That quote should be revised to “Don’t say you don’t have enough time, unless you spend more than two hours in traffic. In that case, I give you free reign to complain.”

Thanks H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

If you’ve noticed the banner on the right side of this website, you can see that I have committed to writing 30 posts in 30 days for the month of November. It’s just a fun activity, sponsored by NaBloPoMo, otherwise known was National Blog Posting Month to get people in the habit of posting. While I would love to post every day for eternity, lack of energy and time prevent me from doing so regularly, and that’s really upsetting. So in honor of NaBloPoMo, here is one of 30 posts you will see from me in the month of November.

Let’s start with Halloween.

Hello from 1963! I went as Jacqueline Kennedy, complete with a “Rock the Vote” pin, gloves which my mother wore on her wedding day, an Ann Taylor suit, a Chanel bag and pearls. I was only a handful of people dressed up at the office, and was rather disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm. I picked Jackie O because not only have I admired her for a long time, but since it was a political year, I thought I would make a statement. A couple people mentioned to me that I should have come with blood splattered on my suite, mimicking the day that JFK was shot, but I am not suited for such attempts at trying to be gory or funny. I’m way too sensitive for it. Too much maybe. Henry was meant to be George Washington this year. I even bought felt and a curly white wig to fashion him in to America’s first president, but unfortunately, because I had been concentrating on grad school, work and writing, I didn’t get a chance to sew it. So I went and bought him a last minute costume of a ghost, which didn’t really work because he’s already white, with black beady eyes and nose.

When kids starting showing up at the door, he barked furiously, as if to say “hey, why are you on my property,” and then he got excited at the thought of people coming over, but when he realized that they were just showing up for candy and then going away, he began to cry after them. Every time a troop of snow whites, goblins and pumpkin-ofied babies would approach, he would frantically try to smell them. When they left, he was whimpering after them. He then spent the rest of the night waiting by the door for more kids. He did this long after everyone had come by. My heart melted.

When I came home after 2 hours in traffic, I found out that I had received a notice about a traffic violation. I was slightly confused, as I know that I haven’t been stopped by police for any type of violation for years. Lo and behold, it wasn’t a cop who had stopped me, but one of those pesky video cameras, that had taken photos of my car, supposedly passing a red light. In all honesty, I can’t recall if I had actually done this or not, but at that point it didn’t matter. I am now stuck with a huge and hefty fine and traffic school. I really hate my life. My plans of getting a new camera have now been delayed, thanks to Big Brother. George Orwell would not have been happy.

405 – Pit of Hell. This is what I do in traffic. Take photos.

My boyfriend doesn’t understand traffic. Why should he? He’s from London, where mass transit is the norm and readily available to any Londoner at will. In London, there are buses at every stop, taxis at every corner and a metro with comfortable seating. What more can you ask for? Unlike Los Angeles, London is not a particularly spread out city. You can probably travel across it in less than an hour. L.A on the other hand is a vast land of freeway, suburb and city. I’ve said this before, but I don’t understand how anyone can travel to this city for vacation. How do you figure out where to go? And most importantly, how do you manage to get there? You can drive here, but what if you’re coming from Sweden? You can rent a car, but how would you even figure out our convoluted freeway system? 10 east, 5 south, 405 north, como what? I’ve lived in this city practically all my life and even I can’t figure it out completely (although if I needed to, I could find my way home using surface streets – this is what driving across town does to you)

This morning I thought I’d try something new by waking up extremely early to try and beat traffic. I got on the freeway at 6:50 a.m. In a normal city, this would mean that there would be a NORMAL amount of cars on the road. In Los Angeles, it means getting to work at 8:10 a.m.

No matter what I do, it doesn’t go away. It exists to make my life hell, even before I get to my cube. Tomorrow, I might try 6:30 a.m., although seeing as to it’s a Friday, I don’t know if it will be an accurate experiment.

The Los Angeles freeway system was my lady all Summer long. Now that school has started, it is a complete mess on the concrete jungle. This won’t ease up, I’m suspecting, until after Christmas. How lovely!

It was a bit difficult waking up this morning. Even Henry didn’t want to budge. He stayed in bed until even after I came back to my room after a shower. However, once he saw me put pants on, he went wild, gnawing at my feet, hopping arond like a miniature gazelle. That’s his cue, he knows that when the pants come on, we exist the room, make our way to the kitchen, where he’ll sniff around and either run to the living room to bark at INVISIBLENESS outside or trot to my parents’ bedroom to steal some socks for his morning breakfast. I can just foresee how hard the coming months will be to wake up – even harder than it is now that the days are getting shorter, and it’s pretty dark when I get home. Ugh.

Today was a terrible day for traffic. I know that sounds redundant, but to give you an idea of how bad it was, I left my house at 7:40 a.m. and got to Santa Monica at 9:10 a.m. I doubt it will ease up before January, as school is in session and the holidays are coming up. One thing is for sure, if I can get Halloween off, I am. Last year, it took be three hours to get home. Three hours. THREE HOURS. I could have been in Mexico in that amount of time. Coming back home tonight was slightly better, if you consider an hour and 10 minute drive for 34 miles better. After doing this for almost a year, I would consider that a good day.

The heat is easing up. I was slightly “cold” while I drove this morning, a miracle in Los Angeles. I thought about how deeply I’m contemplating moving to Europe if I come upon news that John McCain has become  President, how annoying I find the names “Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac,” how much nicer the 405 would be without any cars on it and how badly I want a cup of tea and a blanket right at this moment.

It still ceases to amaze me why traffic exists. I’ve read the science behind it, yet I still don’t understand it. The roads don’t change. They don’t get smaller or bigger, so unless there is a major accident backing up cars, I don’t understand why people just can’t accelerate and drive. Don’t they want to be home soon? I don’t buy the excuse of too many cars being on the road because as I said, the roads always stay the same. The days are getting shorter and I am not looking forward to being stuck in traffic in the dark.

I made it home, as I do every day. All the stress of driving, the stupidity of Los Angeles drivers, all the unnecessary stops and gos, they all melt away when I get to my doorstep and a 6lb Maltese named Henry greets me like he hasn’t seen me in 10 years.

Sometimes, I secretly enjoy Los Angeles traffic becomes it not only gives me time to listen to all the wonderful, insightful and interesting news and feature reports on NPR, but it gives me time to think. And it also gives me time to do my makeup. Yea, sometimes I do my makeup while I drive, always in heavy traffic and for always less than 15 minutes tops. Don’t scoff. It takes me 1 hour and 15 minutes to get to work. And I’m a girl. I’m allowed to do my makeup in my car by default. At least I’m doing something constructive with dead time. What are you doing, picking your nose? I thought so.

Graduate school

When will I apply? Where will I go? Most importantly, how much will it cost? And what about Henry? I have to sit and map out a 2-year-plan.

Barack Obama

I don’t know how anyone in their right mind can vote for John McCain. I don’t know. I swear to God, if he becomes president, I am packing up and moving to Europe. Maybe France, I don’t know. Sacrebleu!

Bollywood

I wonder what film we will watch this weekend. I keep forgetting to Netflix Khabi Alvida Na Khena. Nat hasn’t seen it. She must. She must see it immediately. I wonder how Aishwarya Rai is so beautiful. That face, that hair, those eyes. I could stare at her all day long. They’re all pretty. All of them! Priyanka Chopra, Bipasha Basu, Preity Zenta. How is this possible, Universe?

Reading

I have so many books that I’ve bought but haven’t read yet. I want to read. I really want to read. But every night I come home, I am either too tired or have other things to do. I must have at least 10 books waiting for me. I can’t even remember at this point what the last book I read was. How upsetting.

Manicures

I need one. And a pedicure. I wish I had the time and energy and patience to professionally get my nails done, at least once a month. It’s nice to have clean and nice hands, and feet for that matter.

Life

I wish I was at home, sewing and knitting instead of driving to work. When will they day come that I can work from home? I need to plant more vegetables in my garden. I need to paint my room. I wish I had a house to call my own, instead of just a room. Jeez, I need to pluck my eyebrows, they grow at the speed of light. I probably need to shave too. If someone handed me a lump sum of money right now, the first thing I would do is go to the nearest laser hair removal center and purchase head to toe body treatments.