“I’d say it was a setup for disaster, but, it’s so much more than that. It’s my routine.”

Last Friday I fell. I fell hard.

I was sprinting down the stairs of the Central Square subway station when it happened. In typical Aubree Lawrence fashion I was listening to my iPod, reading an academic paper (marking it up with my favorite red pen), and hurrying down the stairs on my way to a meeting at Emerson. Yes. Listening to music, reading, writing, and hurrying. I’d say it was a setup for disaster, but, it’s so much more than that. It’s my routine.

I’ve pretty much pieced together what happened. At the bottom of the stairs I took a long stride toward the gate—not realizing I still had (at least) one more stair to go. When the floor didn’t meet me with it’s usual timing I pitched forward out of control. My confused right foot twisted on impact, bringing the rest of me down off-kilter. The resulting blow to my left knee has since blossomed into something resembling a subcutaneous purple alien fetus—summer fashions are on hold. My body stressed every muscle in panic. The next second I had the first of many sharp chest pains that (after stopping into the meeting to “touch base” first, of course) sent me to MGH fearing a (fourth!) lung collapse.

I don’t need to learn the same lesson twice. I’m done rushing. Rushing, scrambling, hurrying, hightailing it—whatever you want to call it, I’m over it. Yes, this means I will need to learn to leave on time. If I fail and end up being late somewhere then it will just have to be an (albeit public) important reminder to practice diligent time management. Not only that, I’m DONE multitasking as I walk place to place. True, I was harried, but with my adept skill paying attention to everything other than my surroundings the fact is, this accident could have happened at any time. (I must admit, though… for dramatic purposes I’m rather glad I was at least nobly risking life, limb and, um—knees, to get to a meeting when it happened. ::sigh:: Anything for a good story.)

Being a person of intelligence, and bearing the bruises (to knee and ego) of my fall from grace (sorry), I am henceforth resolved:

1. I will not listen to my iPod for walks under 10 minutes long.
2. I will no longer read papers, books, Spare Change News, or the Improper Bostonian while walking.
3. I will not check my email on my cell, nor reply to text messages. (I still need to check texts in case someone is writing to say “meeting’s canceled, go back home and finish that half-eaten yogurt,” but I’ll stop and step to the side to do so.)
4. I will not place phone calls. I hate talking on the phone anyway.

Only maybe worth noting: I will probably continue to drink coffee while walking; I am still a grad student/”human” after all!

Up until now I just cruised through the world in hopeless distraction. And why? “Efficient use of time! Productivity!” goes the argument… But seriously, could I really take good notes while walking? Compose a respectable email? How many times have I had to reread a paragraph after a near-stumble? Gods and callers alike know I can’t hear a damned thing on the phone with all the city’s street noise in the background!

I’ve been practicing my new walking-life philosophy for three days. I’m shocked to realize how much of the world I was missing, everything from the lilacs I didn’t see because I was always looking down, to snippets of some seriously eves-drop-worthy conversations that now leave me alternating between laughing and realizing humanity is a lost cause (which is to say alternating between laughing, and laughing even harder). The change has been surprisingly rewarding.

I suppose I shouldn’t make it sound so simple. It’s rewarding and all, but it’s also really hard. At this point I’m fighting well-honed habits, acts in which I once took pride! Seconds after I exit to fresh air I instinctively reach for my cell to have it fetch my email. The phone buzzes with a text message (most likely a Facebook Mobile status update) and I have to resist. I no sooner correct myself for going for my cell, and I’m already I’m shifting my bag to reach my iPod. But I have stay strong. I have to be patient and just keep reminding myself: Slow down. Breathe. Look around. Listen. Take notice of the world. Be radical and give a go at actually participating in it. And most importantly—don’t fall down.

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 29th, 2008 at 12:18 am and is filed under Education, Emerson College, Urban Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.