Progression of Order

Apparently, everything has to get worse before it can get better. My room, for instance, just exploded. Or perhaps that's imploded... nothing made it out the door. It was in a very stable state of disarray until I decided to clean, and then as soon as I started cleaning its all sort of went to chaos (very orderly chaos, of course). And now it all looks much better. I had the same problem with art. I'd show you the line art of the project I was working on, but then as soon as I started coloring no one was allowed to see it until I was done. Because while the line art may look fantastic, nothing looks good half shaded or colored or blended. If you show people the mid process, they're all like, errr, that's, um, nice. Makeup's like that too. Right after I put on the concealer... let's just say you'll have to hold it a little longer and let me finish. Also lawn mowing, of course. And remodeling. Nail painting, hair cutting, sunless tans, bleaching, cooking, book binding... all that stuff.

And of course there's the implications it has for life. Childhood is great, but then you've got to get through teenage years, school, and career before the loveliness of retirement (I have my own theories on the retirement hoax -- we'll talk later). Dating too. Wasn't it nice before you had to worry about that? Does he like me, should I ask her out, what happens next, oh crap what if he tries to kiss me?? But then eventually you find that special someone and get married and all is well.

I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. Unfortunately, 3,000 page anthologies are slightly intimidating. I think if I actually carried my books to class I might shrink a few inches from spine compression. I really just need to pick the book up and crack it open...

My theories on time.

Why is it so hard to just say you want to hang out? I just end up feeling depressed and wasting my minutes. And why are people never home when you knock?

I think Jenga is a good way to get to know people.