One more gift

I am very fortunate to have received the triathelete of birthday gift lists this year: lean and muscular, no fat, no waste. I've truly and sincerely valued everything I've gotten, from the small to the grand, and goodies continue to trickle in. One last thing I'd like though, is something I will give to myself: the gift of organization.

When I was younger, leaner, handsomer (really, it is possible), I was more organized. And a millionaire, I was very rich. Hey, it's my nostalgic moment, get your own if you don't like it!

One thing that was true though, was that I was organized. I knew where things were, or at least where they ought to be, should I need them. Back then, for a brief time, I was single.

As much as I'd like to pretend that I was some alphabetizing dynamo, it was more to the point to say that a) I had less stuff to spread out and lose, and b) I was the only one to move things around. I might (might?) get drunk and hide things from myself, but I was the only one to worry about.

It is only coincidentally true that I am now married and sloppy. Now, I am a disorganized slob, my home a disheveled wreck at a crisis point that I'd be embarrassed to show to a crackhead. I have lots of stuff (note to self: material wealth not the key to happiness), but as often as not I can't find a lot of it. This is just not the me I want to be.

In my defense, I am not totally shiftless. It is a busy life. I get lots of things done, things that matter. I just don't have this one thing that is an important piece of my psyche. I have an innate need to be able to find things that I know I have, and to use them without an inordinate amount of difficulty. I must accommodate this need, at least somewhat, if I am to be happy.

I have the tools of organization, I just haven't employed them. So, this year I've decided to work towards a life containing bare tabletops, indexed files and possessions that are grouped and arranged to the point where one doesn't have to move two of them to access a third. I hope to walk through a bucolic nirvana where stumbling over items is something does in inebriation, not with claustrophobic regularity. I hope to climb a mountain of dear belongings and outright junk and discriminate between the two!

I hope to become: more organized.

Creative cramp

Every workday (every good day anyway, and that's most of them), I sit in my car, going to and/or from work, and I wish... I wish I had a little more time to do the things that present themselves to my mind on such days. Draw. Videotape. Practice guitar/French/whatever. The trouble is, even when this free time wanders over and sits in my lap, I procrastinate.

Sometimes I procrastinate actively - I find "better" things to do. My favorite is housework. I'll do loads of dishes and laundry, pick up the clutter and maybe pick up a less pro-forma task or two. Often though, dishes are set, laundry is at a non-critical stage, and I will still sit and stare idly at the guitar, the French textbook, the camcorder and the whatever.

Sometimes, I procrastinate passively. Watch TV, browse the web or noodle around with something that has no possible redemptive value.

Every now and then though, something in my inherently self-defeating mind will fail, and I'll actually commence to creating something. I like those times. They're usually preceded by the unusual combination of a) a good idea, and b) the organization of said idea into a thumbnail, or some other structured planning. If I carry that structure long enough to sneak it past my own mildly destructive qualities, it's a fair bet that something (I consider to be) useful will come of it.

Those are good times. I should concentrate on improving that rough formula into a work ethic; right now though, UFC fighting is on, and I've been meaning to catch up on John Bizarre's website. He's very funny.