A routine can be an action you do every single day, maybe something you say or think too. They can be either good or bad but at the end of the day it’s your choice to have one.
Federica
I hate the routine of loving routines. They help me stay sane but I hate that I need them. A routine keeps me on track, but it would be so much nicer to be pushed off track every once in a while. Why is leaving your comfort zone so difficult when it is so rewarding? Take me someplace, get me out of here. I need to see the world and get out of this common routine. The word routine goes perfectly with the word boring. They are so similar and both give me a feeling of being unaccomplished and lame.
Lacie
Routines are good. Exercises that you learn. goals that needed to be done. Make yourselves
a routine. A day that passed by without you doing anything. How could that be? Isn’t that ridiculous? How can a person, day passing without any goals?
Everybody is a part of this world. Nobody is just an existence. You were here for a purpose. Getting a routine, or a schedule for a day will be a new experience. go ahead and jot down what you wanted or not in a piece of paper. Write down your goals, short term or long term. Start your day right.
I love my house. She is my friend. I love pizza. I don’t remember.
Ana
Each day she takes a brush
to her face
and it hurts her cheeks to see it pass
the granules the granulating, undulating waves of missed desire and
long lost connections.
The toast is burnt.
The milk is nearly empty and the plastic reverberates with someone else’s smell;
it’s a cat
it’s off and old socks.
Your father’s sneakers with teabags in their soles to mask the scent.
Your hands hiding, swallowing mine, the smell long gone
the nail polish broken.
.
I returned to my routine as if I’d never left it, as though the last time hadn’t happened and my life hadn’t changed almost beyond recognition. As if I didn’t feel more dead than alive.
This microscopic love had her all out of routine. It had devoured her. Too busy navigating the hills and crevices of his perfect torso she had no time or caring for the washing or for getting to work on time. Olivia felt dishevelled. Wild. She had allowed her orderly self to unravel completely and Mrs Privett was none too pleased.
I knew I was depressed based on my daily routine. “Wake up, make coffee, look busy in front of my family, watch tv, maybe go outside, watch more tv, maybe charge my phone, and sleep.” My madness rested on one routine. Day in, day out; until one day it changed. Maybe it was when I started to watch my niece, or when I started doing yoga everyday.
I was at garden, like every day. Looking at trees was my daily routine since I remember.
Wojciech
He wakes up at 6:30 in the morning to go for a jog. He wears this baggy red beanie in the winter and sometimes in the summer. He doesn’t jog to keep in shape. Walking doesn’t satisfy his fast-paced thinking and so he jogs because running exerts too much energy and he is not about that. After the jog, he comes back home and takes a shower. On the weekends, he takes a bath because he can. Afterwards, he stand at the medicine cabinet mirror and inspects himself. The little blackhead on the side of his nose, his chewed up lips, the drops of water rolling down his skin past his bony chest.
chelle
this is my routine. I need to write everyday. Sit at the computer and writer, routinely. Punch the letters on the keyboard, one after another. What is the time needed? Ten minutes? An hour, two? The goal is daily.
Jennifer Lemming
Chains, you are. Round and round, repetetive and binding. You and your ill-silver circle are all that is wrong with me, all that is wrong with us. The endless, inescapable loop. Conformity, restriction hidden beneath a smooth, rounted exterior. You would have us stay – you would have us rot. But no – I create.
its the start of a new term and we are getting back into normal routine said the mother to her daughter.
lilianna morgan
“Same and same and same and same,” the kid shrieked, spinning around with his hands extended, like a little dreidel. The men in suits turned round and looked at him, the oddball in their midst, some looked away again and others gave slight smiles. He got dizzy and fell onto the grass.
“Hush,” his mom said, taking him into her arms.
“Why?” he asked. “Why why why why?” He was still staring at the suited men.
(Her mom remembered, babies stare longer at things they don’t understand.)
“They’re all part of our company,” she said.
He stared down at his black shoes, not grass-stained. He tried wiggling them but they were tight. “Not me,” he said defiantly.
I don’t have enough time to find a routine
I’m hoping to uncover some though, the way I hope that others will discover me.
It’s not easy being withdrawn. At some point I’m just hoping I’m found at all, even if there’s nothing but a vague void refuse.
I’ve followed the same routine day in, day out for the last I don’t know how many years now. School, followed by work, followed by dinner, followed by bed. Repeat. Weekends, are different in that there is no school and sometimes, no work. But there it is, I’m a boring person.
It started with the traditional hurried combing of his hair, then frantically shoving down as much cereal as he could handle. Brush teeth, grab some clothes, start the car.
But he wasn’t expecting the stranger to plant herself squarely in his driveway, blocking his path.
“Hey, Ryan,” she said. Then, raising an eyebrow, “We need to talk.”
Tootles.
his routine, wither he liked it or not, was the same every day. wake up, eat, shower, walk around the neighbor hood, go to the record shop, then come home and sleep some more. he was told before, when he was first told about his illness, not to go out often. that he couldn’t operate properly in the real world, that too much happened all too quickly for him to deal with it. no one trusted him to keep his cool, but he trusts himself.
He trusts that he can walk around his calm neighborhood, visit his favorite record store, buy some new records, go home and listen to it. it’s not really that overwhelming.
leo
Routines are boring. They’re the same thing everyday. The same thing everyday gets annoying and predictable; and the worst thing to be in life is predictable. Routines take all the fun and surprise out of your day.
Alex
They go about their daily life
walking on the sidewalk right
stepping over puddles, muddy deep
and shallow hearts.
Mirror movements stiff and mean
creased in folds and August breeze
lifts their eyes above unseen
into the bluest arc.
fz
This was the routine Ashley had, day in and day out. It did not involve a nine to five office job in front of the newest PC model desktop computer. It did not have a specific requirement for hygiene. It didn’t even provide a quota for paying attention to people or lack thereof.
It did, however, mandate cheese puffs.
Belinda Roddie
This was the routine every morning. Wake up, bathe, have someone tie me into a suffocating corset and do my hair. It was boring. Ha! Who would’ve thought that my elegant life could be so dull? But this morning especially, I wanted out. I wanted to be free and to sleep in, stay a little dirty, and dress like a boy.
He followed his routine exactly everyday. He arose from bed, padded to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth for a minute and a half. He rinsed his mouth with the cup that stood by the sink.
A routine can be both helpful, and yet, quite boring. Sometimes routines are wonderful because you always know what you’re going to do, which can almost be a sort of “Security blanket”. Sometimes a routine can be hell, knowing *exactly* what you are going to do everyday can be beyond a bore.
Sara Combs
“It’s not different if it is the same,” she told me, “Keep looking and maybe you will find peace.”
So I kept walking. I put one lead block in front of the other, and hoped that I could at least drag myself through the dead leaves and ashes of my father’s cigarettes. If I couldn’t walk on my own two feet, maybe I could crawl on what was left of my knees.
routines are something that i find relaxing. if i don’t have a routine, i don’t know what i’m doing. routines are rules that help guide what i do.
cam
This is the crux of getting things done
this is the update that you didn’t care about
this is everything that fits in the box that you had to haul around ottawa
I got into a routine one Thursday it took 19 years to get into it fully,
I only broke it
Flimmy Jammer
She got up, got dressed, and waited for her brothers. They would finally get up and get dressed and start the day. After their parents died, everything was their responsibility, but they didn’t mind at all.
Kitty
I get up and I get dressed. Then I eat breakfast. Then I brush my teeth. Then I brush my hair. Then I get my book bag on. Then I wait for the bus. Then I get on the bus. Then I go to school. Then I go to my locker. Then I go to class. Then I go to study hall. Then I go to special. Then I go to math. Then I go to reading. Then I go to lunch. Then I go to science. Then I go to math. Then I go to homeroom. Then I go to writing. Then I go on the bus. Then I ride the bus home. Then I watch TV. Then I eat supper. Then I watch TV. Then I get a bath. Then I brush my teeth. Then I go to bed. Then I get picked up from my mom. Then I turn on my alarm clock. Then I go back to sleep. Then I do it all over again the next day.
Kylie Figard
It’s nice—every once in a while. How can you expect a new spark to ignite your inner flame if you are always in the same routine? It doesn’t have to change much—you can still be yourself. Just be more willing to break out and do something that scares you. Think positively about it and you might just find that a switch up from the same old daily routine could end up being the best decision of your life.
Theresa
A routine is a pattern. I do a routine when I ride my four-wheeler. In school we have a routine to change classes.
Kylie Figard
She called in,
about discovering
a little challenging
routine
a seam of her sleeve, where she carried her heart
caught in his sieve,
admiring what he does to live
Here are the things we see and do in everything,
Our entity,
Discretion
I can’t even sing,
Sentence and synergy
Impression
Nic
Everything is a never ending routine. Wakeupgetdressedeatgotowork/schoolleavegohomeeatspendtimewithfriends/familygotosleep and so on. There is no change, no creation, everyone just falls into perfect stasis. Everyone does the same thing and comes across the same problems and thinks the same thing and likes the same thing and it is all one big constructed cycle. I am done with rotiune. I am changing things by taking a leap into the void.
My cats and I have a routine every morning. I get up and we meet in the middle of the living room. I brush them and we have a love fest for about 60 to 90 seconds, then they’re off to do whatever they want to do. But we must have our love fest…. it’s an absolute requirement before coffee or anything.
Put on his coat, pick up his umbrella, head to the car and ride in silence to the office. It was the morning routine with her but one he would never change. It was a comfortable silence, never awkward, more fond and familiar.
MyBrolly
routine is what we do every day. the most fantastic thing about human beings. we’re capable of change, but we rather go and create some routines to make us feel confortable we our own lives. we tend to hate it and curse it, but it’s our best friend afterall.
Ninny
Waking up I pull myself out of bed and rub my eyes. Slowly I drag myself to the bathroom and take a freezing cold shower to wake myself up. Once I finish my shower and dry off I put on my school uniform and throw my books and binders into my disheveled backpack. This is my school morning routine.
A routine can be an action you do every single day, maybe something you say or think too. They can be either good or bad but at the end of the day it’s your choice to have one.
I hate the routine of loving routines. They help me stay sane but I hate that I need them. A routine keeps me on track, but it would be so much nicer to be pushed off track every once in a while. Why is leaving your comfort zone so difficult when it is so rewarding? Take me someplace, get me out of here. I need to see the world and get out of this common routine. The word routine goes perfectly with the word boring. They are so similar and both give me a feeling of being unaccomplished and lame.
Routines are good. Exercises that you learn. goals that needed to be done. Make yourselves
a routine. A day that passed by without you doing anything. How could that be? Isn’t that ridiculous? How can a person, day passing without any goals?
Everybody is a part of this world. Nobody is just an existence. You were here for a purpose. Getting a routine, or a schedule for a day will be a new experience. go ahead and jot down what you wanted or not in a piece of paper. Write down your goals, short term or long term. Start your day right.
Life is just one big routine..
I love my house. She is my friend. I love pizza. I don’t remember.
Each day she takes a brush
to her face
and it hurts her cheeks to see it pass
the granules the granulating, undulating waves of missed desire and
long lost connections.
The toast is burnt.
The milk is nearly empty and the plastic reverberates with someone else’s smell;
it’s a cat
it’s off and old socks.
Your father’s sneakers with teabags in their soles to mask the scent.
Your hands hiding, swallowing mine, the smell long gone
the nail polish broken.
I returned to my routine as if I’d never left it, as though the last time hadn’t happened and my life hadn’t changed almost beyond recognition. As if I didn’t feel more dead than alive.
This microscopic love had her all out of routine. It had devoured her. Too busy navigating the hills and crevices of his perfect torso she had no time or caring for the washing or for getting to work on time. Olivia felt dishevelled. Wild. She had allowed her orderly self to unravel completely and Mrs Privett was none too pleased.
I knew I was depressed based on my daily routine. “Wake up, make coffee, look busy in front of my family, watch tv, maybe go outside, watch more tv, maybe charge my phone, and sleep.” My madness rested on one routine. Day in, day out; until one day it changed. Maybe it was when I started to watch my niece, or when I started doing yoga everyday.
I was at garden, like every day. Looking at trees was my daily routine since I remember.
He wakes up at 6:30 in the morning to go for a jog. He wears this baggy red beanie in the winter and sometimes in the summer. He doesn’t jog to keep in shape. Walking doesn’t satisfy his fast-paced thinking and so he jogs because running exerts too much energy and he is not about that. After the jog, he comes back home and takes a shower. On the weekends, he takes a bath because he can. Afterwards, he stand at the medicine cabinet mirror and inspects himself. The little blackhead on the side of his nose, his chewed up lips, the drops of water rolling down his skin past his bony chest.
this is my routine. I need to write everyday. Sit at the computer and writer, routinely. Punch the letters on the keyboard, one after another. What is the time needed? Ten minutes? An hour, two? The goal is daily.
Chains, you are. Round and round, repetetive and binding. You and your ill-silver circle are all that is wrong with me, all that is wrong with us. The endless, inescapable loop. Conformity, restriction hidden beneath a smooth, rounted exterior. You would have us stay – you would have us rot. But no – I create.
normal routine
its the start of a new term and we are getting back into normal routine said the mother to her daughter.
“Same and same and same and same,” the kid shrieked, spinning around with his hands extended, like a little dreidel. The men in suits turned round and looked at him, the oddball in their midst, some looked away again and others gave slight smiles. He got dizzy and fell onto the grass.
“Hush,” his mom said, taking him into her arms.
“Why?” he asked. “Why why why why?” He was still staring at the suited men.
(Her mom remembered, babies stare longer at things they don’t understand.)
“They’re all part of our company,” she said.
He stared down at his black shoes, not grass-stained. He tried wiggling them but they were tight. “Not me,” he said defiantly.
I don’t have enough time to find a routine
I’m hoping to uncover some though, the way I hope that others will discover me.
It’s not easy being withdrawn. At some point I’m just hoping I’m found at all, even if there’s nothing but a vague void refuse.
I’ve followed the same routine day in, day out for the last I don’t know how many years now. School, followed by work, followed by dinner, followed by bed. Repeat. Weekends, are different in that there is no school and sometimes, no work. But there it is, I’m a boring person.
His daily routine was nearly the same as usual.
It started with the traditional hurried combing of his hair, then frantically shoving down as much cereal as he could handle. Brush teeth, grab some clothes, start the car.
But he wasn’t expecting the stranger to plant herself squarely in his driveway, blocking his path.
“Hey, Ryan,” she said. Then, raising an eyebrow, “We need to talk.”
his routine, wither he liked it or not, was the same every day. wake up, eat, shower, walk around the neighbor hood, go to the record shop, then come home and sleep some more. he was told before, when he was first told about his illness, not to go out often. that he couldn’t operate properly in the real world, that too much happened all too quickly for him to deal with it. no one trusted him to keep his cool, but he trusts himself.
He trusts that he can walk around his calm neighborhood, visit his favorite record store, buy some new records, go home and listen to it. it’s not really that overwhelming.
Routines are boring. They’re the same thing everyday. The same thing everyday gets annoying and predictable; and the worst thing to be in life is predictable. Routines take all the fun and surprise out of your day.
They go about their daily life
walking on the sidewalk right
stepping over puddles, muddy deep
and shallow hearts.
Mirror movements stiff and mean
creased in folds and August breeze
lifts their eyes above unseen
into the bluest arc.
This was the routine Ashley had, day in and day out. It did not involve a nine to five office job in front of the newest PC model desktop computer. It did not have a specific requirement for hygiene. It didn’t even provide a quota for paying attention to people or lack thereof.
It did, however, mandate cheese puffs.
This was the routine every morning. Wake up, bathe, have someone tie me into a suffocating corset and do my hair. It was boring. Ha! Who would’ve thought that my elegant life could be so dull? But this morning especially, I wanted out. I wanted to be free and to sleep in, stay a little dirty, and dress like a boy.
I’m trying to get into a routine that involves more exercising and more reading. We’ll see how that goes . . . but, so far, so good.
He followed his routine exactly everyday. He arose from bed, padded to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth for a minute and a half. He rinsed his mouth with the cup that stood by the sink.
A routine can be both helpful, and yet, quite boring. Sometimes routines are wonderful because you always know what you’re going to do, which can almost be a sort of “Security blanket”. Sometimes a routine can be hell, knowing *exactly* what you are going to do everyday can be beyond a bore.
“It’s not different if it is the same,” she told me, “Keep looking and maybe you will find peace.”
So I kept walking. I put one lead block in front of the other, and hoped that I could at least drag myself through the dead leaves and ashes of my father’s cigarettes. If I couldn’t walk on my own two feet, maybe I could crawl on what was left of my knees.
routines are something that i find relaxing. if i don’t have a routine, i don’t know what i’m doing. routines are rules that help guide what i do.
This is the crux of getting things done
this is the update that you didn’t care about
this is everything that fits in the box that you had to haul around ottawa
I got into a routine one Thursday it took 19 years to get into it fully,
I only broke it
She got up, got dressed, and waited for her brothers. They would finally get up and get dressed and start the day. After their parents died, everything was their responsibility, but they didn’t mind at all.
I get up and I get dressed. Then I eat breakfast. Then I brush my teeth. Then I brush my hair. Then I get my book bag on. Then I wait for the bus. Then I get on the bus. Then I go to school. Then I go to my locker. Then I go to class. Then I go to study hall. Then I go to special. Then I go to math. Then I go to reading. Then I go to lunch. Then I go to science. Then I go to math. Then I go to homeroom. Then I go to writing. Then I go on the bus. Then I ride the bus home. Then I watch TV. Then I eat supper. Then I watch TV. Then I get a bath. Then I brush my teeth. Then I go to bed. Then I get picked up from my mom. Then I turn on my alarm clock. Then I go back to sleep. Then I do it all over again the next day.
It’s nice—every once in a while. How can you expect a new spark to ignite your inner flame if you are always in the same routine? It doesn’t have to change much—you can still be yourself. Just be more willing to break out and do something that scares you. Think positively about it and you might just find that a switch up from the same old daily routine could end up being the best decision of your life.
A routine is a pattern. I do a routine when I ride my four-wheeler. In school we have a routine to change classes.
She called in,
about discovering
a little challenging
routine
a seam of her sleeve, where she carried her heart
caught in his sieve,
admiring what he does to live
in a world enjoying
Here are the things we see and do in everything,
Our entity,
Discretion
I can’t even sing,
Sentence and synergy
Impression
Everything is a never ending routine. Wakeupgetdressedeatgotowork/schoolleavegohomeeatspendtimewithfriends/familygotosleep and so on. There is no change, no creation, everyone just falls into perfect stasis. Everyone does the same thing and comes across the same problems and thinks the same thing and likes the same thing and it is all one big constructed cycle. I am done with rotiune. I am changing things by taking a leap into the void.
My cats and I have a routine every morning. I get up and we meet in the middle of the living room. I brush them and we have a love fest for about 60 to 90 seconds, then they’re off to do whatever they want to do. But we must have our love fest…. it’s an absolute requirement before coffee or anything.
Put on his coat, pick up his umbrella, head to the car and ride in silence to the office. It was the morning routine with her but one he would never change. It was a comfortable silence, never awkward, more fond and familiar.
routine is what we do every day. the most fantastic thing about human beings. we’re capable of change, but we rather go and create some routines to make us feel confortable we our own lives. we tend to hate it and curse it, but it’s our best friend afterall.
Waking up I pull myself out of bed and rub my eyes. Slowly I drag myself to the bathroom and take a freezing cold shower to wake myself up. Once I finish my shower and dry off I put on my school uniform and throw my books and binders into my disheveled backpack. This is my school morning routine.