It
might also be my desire for structure. I think it’s the strangest aspect of my
personality. I crave some disorder, some fly by the handle, opportunity will
knock on the door type of life, yet long for a structure for all that to occur
within. I like order, controlled chaos. I like knowing yet often am pleased
with a surprise or two. Since I’ve been unemployed I’ve been looking for some
order amid the chaos of my life. I want something solid to build upon, yet
everything seems to be sand. And as we all know, sand isn’t very good to build
on. Unless you’re Egyptian.
I
like things to be organized. I like for things to be in place. I don’t much
care for a lot of Willie-nillieness. I like things to be where they are
supposed to be. I get frustrated when the world or other people don’t adhere to
that philosophy. When things or people are out of control (or out of my
control) I find myself stifled and nearly unable to act. I’m frozen, just
trying to figure out what the hell just happened rather than acting on it. That’s
not to say that I don’t immediately act at times. Usually that involves me
losing my temper and yelling at someone or nearly getting into a fight over
something stupid because I acted without thinking.
So
the clutter in my apartment upon my return after being away has caused me to
focus in a strange way. To focus on the things that need to get done. I have to
finish a story or two. I have to send them to the right people to be read. I
have to finally achieve something in line with my aspiration of being an actual
writer and make a living at it.
I have to do the dishes. I also have to find out what that smell is. Damn.
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