I like being organized. I like the idea of being organized. I like organizational systems and tidiness and a place for everything and everything in its place.
I switched computers and accidentally messed up my SpiderOak setup and haven't quite got it back. Oh, and I also have a Dropbox account, and some of that stuff is in both places. Plus of course there's a USB key that's basically a decade-plus worth of files, and a couple of different computers, and a couple of Github repos, and maybe an old hard drive that has all my college files?
My desks -- at home and at work -- are a riot of piles and papers and trash and flotsam and jetsam. D&D stuff mixed with architectural design. Bills stacked with grocery lists.
I have calendars in at least three different places. I have half-a-dozen unfinished book reviews in Goodreads. I have partially started projects of so many kinds that it makes me a little nauseated thinking about it. (Knitting, home improvement, writing, programming.)
The proliferation of things and the desire to be creative runs up against the need for some sort of order and reason. (I feel like I'm not alone in this.)
And then time.
@epersonae here's my life at the moment, maybe ideas? Rain, traffic, hurry and wait, tea, mall, family, birthday, alumni, play, cast party.— Susan Bustetter (@blueberrysusan) October 24, 2015
I'm certainly not as busy as she is, but still I feel hedged in by time. "I was going to..." sometimes feel like the sentence I say most often. The instinct is to then try to do ALL THE THINGS, which is a terrible idea. So little things.
Today I'm consolidating some photos, doing some laundry, sorting some papers. Writing this. Maybe I'll finish writing another thing I've promised to someone. And you?
PS to Relly: Knitting has taken most of what used to be my reading time, but OMG The Killing Moon was amazing.
PS to Jack: How Soon Is Now because it's entirely perfect.