BREAKING HABITS

It all began the morning when, getting dressed, for some strange reason I pulled on the left leg of my pants first, instead of the right, and almost fell over. It felt odd, then I realised it was because I had just inadvertently broken a habit of a lifetime, one of those things one does unconsciously every day. I sat on the edge of the bed and began to think about how many other things I do each day out of habit --- almost everything, even driving to work for instance. I've often performed the highly skilled feat of manoeuvering 500 kilos of metal, plastic, and rubber through rush hour traffic without giving it a thought.

In fact, I sometimes arrive at my destination without even once been aware of making a single conscious decision at all regarding driving. That's quite amazing when you think about it. Unfortunately, I can't say I've utilized this time for more important higher brain activities, usually random daydreams, even fantasies. No wonder my life seemed so boring. This led me to think it was time to start tuning in to what is going on in my life, to actually make some conscious decisions before I become completely ruled by habit.

I resolved to begin by making everything I would do or say throughout one day, a totally aware, conscious action. I would change my life completely for one day by breaking all habits, physical or mental. I would be a different being. It was so simple, for one day I would be in control of my own existence, no longer trapped in it. Something like Sartre had in mind, except all he did was run to the bathroom and throw up because he couldn't make up his mind.

On the designated day I began by not showering, I did shave, but in the opposite direction, left hand instead of right. This resulted in me resembling an over-enthusiastic blood donor. I combed my hair straight back, instead of to the side. When dressing, I couldn't wear my regular workaday ones, of course, that wouldn't do. I selected a completely different outfit from my closet, clothes I'd forgotten I owned, remnants of the seventies.

Ready to leave the house, I placed my keys in my right pocket instead of the left and reversed my change. With my wallet in the rear left instead of the rear right I felt quite unbalanced, not that I have a particularly heavy wallet. It felt bizarre, like a stranger's hand. I hollered "See you darling” to my wife. She looked shocked, being used only to a disappearing grunt.

I would not take my car to work this day; I would ride the bus for the first time in thirty years. It felt like a completely new experience. As it was meant to. The last time I had ridden a bus there had been a conductor to take my fare and give change if necessary. Not anymore. Correct change please, asserted the sign. I was being pressured from behind, so in a moment of panic I quickly plunged my right hand into my pocket and promptly deposited my keys in the fare box. The driver was not very cooperative, neither were the people behind. They were getting pushy. “If you want them back, you’ll have to come to the depot at 6:00pm with,” yelled the driver, “and you still owe $2.25.”

I found a seat on the bus, feeling stupid, and just a tad disoriented, I tried to relax by observing the other passengers, the kind of people I'd only seen from a distance before, or through the car windscreen. All travelling on this bus from sheer habit, I thought, smugly.

The bus reached the downtown terminal, and I stumbled off, twisting my ankle, I wasn't used to bus steps. The terminal was quite close to my place of employment, so I was able to limp there. Picking up a newspaper (not my usual) I started to head towards my usual coffee shop for my donut and coffee when I caught myself. When I go there, the sever always hands me my usual order. My habit had become their habit.

I went instead to the delicatessen across the street, a bit of a greasy spoon. Here I ordered a tea and muffin. I never drink tea, which is likely why my stomach felt a little queasy. Like Sartre I ended up in the washroom. Feeling better, I read the newspaper; it was a sensational rag with lots of crime and violence, and lots of mugshots. I felt quite uncomfortable, I was sure I'd seen some of them on the bus with me. I wasn't looking forward to the journey home.

I entered my place of employment, where I received peculiar looks and heard sarcastic comments — these from creatures of habit, I sneered to myself, people for whom a fresh haircut provides enough stimulus for a morning’s conversation.          

I sat at my desk and switched on my terminal. It was the usual boring blue screen; the same color it had always been. That's one habit that needs breaking I thought — easy. I started playing around with the colours, then somehow ended up with the background color same as the text which meant I couldn't read the instructions on how to change it back.

Then the phone rang. Undaunted, I picked it up with the unfamiliar right hand. I must be a little harder of hearing in the right ear. This was made clear to me when my boss showed up demanding to know where the report was, the one she'd just been yelling for over the phone. Determined not to compromise my unhabitual stance, instead of my usual cowering I glared at her. This further infuriated her; she suggested I take the rest of the day to consider a career change. "And get a haircut" she yelled.

Great, I thought, why not. That will be a real habit breaker, just for today. It was close to lunchtime, I normally brought sandwiches, but instead I would eat out, not in some chain restaurant (they are an institutional habit in themselves). No, I chose to sample one of the main street hotels, I was feeling quite brave by now so I chose a sleazy looking place, somewhere incredibly out of habit, the kind of place where Tom Waits might might feel at home. I was really getting into it now. I envisioned dining on pickled eggs washed down with a couple of drafts. It even had strippers, if my wife could see me now, I thought -- or my boss.

So, I did eat pickled eggs, and a couple of drafts, (I don't usually drink at all) then a couple more. Well, before you knew it, I was arm-wrestling with an orangutan, then I became involved in an altercation with one of the ladies over something she claimed I'd received and hadn't paid for. It was possible as I kept having trouble finding my wallet.

This resulted in me being tossed out onto the street by the orangutan, a little ignominiously for Captain Habit Breaker. It was working though; everything so far was brand new. I was glad that my wife couldn't see me now, sad to say my boss did, at least I think she did, I recognized her shoes. They stopped right beside my head, then stepped around me. I stayed down, which wasn't difficult. As Dean Martin once said, "You're not drunk until you can lie on the ground without holding on."

When I eventually regained my feet, I discovered that they had decided to break a few habits on their own, simple ones like taking turns to lead, I promptly fell over again. This time I was helped up by a kindly gentleman in uniform, fortunately not a police officer. He was carrying a trombone rather than a gun. He dragged me off to his home which he shared with many likeminded habit breakers. They looked familiar. This must have been where the bus had been heading. I was locked in a room with one of them, a ferret-like fellow with ferret-like habits, no place for someone rapidly reverting to his rabbit-like persona. To say the least we were incompatible.

I felt it was time to end this exercise in existentialism. It was obvious habits where an evolutionary safeguard. I screamed, everyone screamed, "I don't belong here" I yelled. "Neither do we" yelled everyone else. "Let me out". "Let him out". They let me out, sort of, my wallet had turned up, but since the photo on my driver's licence didn't exactly match my appearance, I was collected by another man in uniform. He didn't have a trombone. He took down to the station and charged me.

I was allowed one phone call, to my wife. By this time, I had recovered from the over-indulgence at lunchtime, so I carefully explained everything to her about my exercise in habit breaking. She chose not to believe me, a bad habit of hers. Fortunately, she did agree to come down and bail me out, on one condition though — something about me breaking just one habit. She said she'd explain on the third Saturday of the month, at 10:30 p.m.

 Home