14. I’ve always liked that number. Even before I turned 14 (and for a couple years after) I made all of the characters in my stories that age. If you were human, you would have just passed the threshold of teenagerdom. You would be a freshman in high school. I’d like to imagine you always wearing purple turtlenecks and mini skirts, doodling in a moleskin notebook, wearing your hair long because you like it when it blows behind you in the wind. You might want to wear tights with that mini skirt because you were cold today, October! Wind chill aside, you were a lovely day and you tempted me to get a pumpkin spice latte from the pub, which made my afternoon that much better.
So, I know you’re wondering. Why the picture of my cluttered desk? I’ve been thinking a lot lately about life’s tendency towards the chaotic. As much we preach time management and organization, the perfectly scheduled life is unattainable, and in most respects undesirable (It would be pretty monotonous, for one). I don’t think we should throw up our hands and let chaos take over, but I do think it’s okay to have a messy desk once in a while, as long as it doesn’t hinder our ability to get any work done. Like anything, it’s a balance, and one I’m still trying to figure out. As I face a chaotic week of trying to get stuff done before my Chicago trip, I find myself longing for order and stability, which means getting my desk back to a state of at least relative cleanliness. Still, there’s something beautiful about a workspace in the moment. It is the embodiment of our humanness, and the way our lives will always bleed out at the edges, never staying inside the lines.
Song of the day: "The Catbird Seat" by Darlingside