The (Dis)Harmony in Monotony

Photo from sxc.hu

I woke up to the humming of the heater. The alarm screamed minutes ago. Soon i heard the rustled sounds of the children be ready for school. The sky from my window, always different each day, gave me the color of soft blue with blot of white. It's a clear morning.

People got up, doing what they're doing every morning in the fashion of reflex of the muscle. I am not necessarily hate Monday. I hate morning. I am not necessarily hate routine. I hate monotony. Though the difference seems to be blurred more and more each day.

I don't know which one is better. Submit to the monotony, or - in the words of Dylan Thomas - rage against it. It is the routine, or the monotony, that brings the postman delivers our mail on time. It is the routine, or the monotony, that opens the grocery stores at the exact hours everyday. We may not like it, but routine -or monotony- helps create the atmosphere of 'everything's under control' against the chaos that is the universe. In the end, we all are going to be silenced anyway.

But the postman (err, postwoman) that delivers my mail - the lady with a big hair and colorful nail - took a six months break from her work and travel around the world. The people who work in the supermarket are not there to stay. Soon they're drifted away to be something other than a girl in the cashier. Maybe a writer with chaotic working hour. A lawyer with an excellent pay. People took a break. People are breaking patterns. People are flexing their muscle. Even though we know that in the end, we all are going to be silenced.

Perhaps, perhaps, it is the process that counts. Even though he knew that he's going to be silenced, yet Dylan Thomas screamed to his father and the rest of the world:

do not go gentle into that goodnight; rage, rage against the dying of the light.