ANEW: Routines and Disruptions
Or, observations about nothing...
Sitting in my usual spot at The Bookery, a local bookstore, along with their newly opened Proba Café in Manchester, I order my standard comfort items: chamomile tea and a blueberry lemon scone. There’s a kind of peace in these routines—nothing new to process, nothing to overthink. My mind can focus solely on the page ahead.
“I’ll have the chamomile tea and one of those blueberry lemon scones, please!”
The barista chimes in, cheerful and out of rhythm with my carefully constructed order:
“Hey, we’re trying out waffles today—on the house! Want one?”
For a second, I pause. Free waffles? A tempting curveball, but I’m a creature of habit. “No thank you,” I reply, polite but firm.
“Are you sure? You can’t beat free!”
I smile to soften the rigidity of my refusal. “No thanks.” What I don’t say is: Waffles are for breakfast or late-night diners—not a mid-morning writing session.
In some ways, this little exchange feels like a Steely Dan lyric:
“The danger on the rocks is surely past / Still I remain tied to the mast / Could it be that I have found my home at last?” (Musixmatch: Walter Carl Becker / Donald Jay Fagen, Home at Last)
There’s a comfort in sameness. Steve Jobs had his jeans and black turtleneck. Barack Obama had his blue and gray suits. For me, it’s tea, a scone, and this spot at The Bookery. This isn’t just about routine—it’s about removing mental clutter. Simplifying. When you limit what your brain has to process, you free up space for higher-order thinking.
As I sip my tea and tap away at my laptop, the door swings open, and I notice a striking woman. She’s wearing a dark sporty quarter-zip, her black hair pulled back sharply, and a splash of bright red lipstick. She glides past the counter where I ordered and disappears into the bookstore.
Moments later, the same woman—or so I think—reappears from the same direction, this time holding a motor scooter. My focus is shattered. How did she leave, grab a scooter, and re-enter so fast?
Twins.
Identical twins, to be exact. They converge at the counter, seemingly choreographed. Too old to be in high school, or they’d be in high school at this hour, but far younger than the elderly twins I used to see strutting in San Francisco’s Union Square, they stand out—especially with the scooter.
A man with a stylishly messy afro notices them too. He does a triple take and stares, clearly just as baffled as I am. He breaks the ice:
“Y’all must be sisters.”
The twins nod, their accents revealing a hint of Eastern Europe.
“Identical, right?”
Again, they nod, smiling.
I can’t help myself. I blurt out from my table, “Are you part of the circus?”
“Yes!” they exclaim in unison. “Are you coming?”
Their enthusiasm — and direct question — catch me off guard. Flustered, I fumble, “I might… Yes, I’ll try.”
And just like that, my carefully constructed routine is shattered. I hadn’t been to a circus since my late-something children were in first and third grade. My thoughts are scattered, my words nonsensical. I try to refocus on my work, but it’s no use. The twins are gone, but it left me thinking about whimsy.
This blog post feels a bit like an episode of Seinfeld: about nothing and everything all at once. Observing. Wondering. Overthinking. As I sit here, I reflect on how this seemingly trivial moment ties into the bigger questions I’ve been pondering: What’s next? How do we build lives and communities of deep meaning? How do small routines or small connections shape the bigger picture? How can we disrupt our nicely ordered and manicured lives by letting in an aerial performer or two?
The circus came and went without me. But this moment reminds me that life-like writing—is built on routines and disruptions. It’s how we navigate both that determines the world we create. Simplifying decisions can help us focus on what truly matters, but shaking up the routine can remind us to look beyond our comfort zones.
So, what does “deep impact” mean for me and the world I want to see? It’s about more than appearances. It’s about linking arms and building a togetherness that resonates beyond our tribes and into the world at large.
And that, my friends, is not nothing.
Curated Watching:
Check out Ukrainian twins Yuliia Mosiienko and Olha Mosiienko, who perform in a Cirque du Soleil-styled circus act HERE.