Organization! Organization! Sis-boom-bah!

In yet another hopeless attempt to become more organized, I am going to bring all rants that apply to graduate school, personal angst, my lack of anger management skills, and pretty much anything else besides food .... here.  

Despite this unnatural attempt at cyberspacial cleanliness, I assure any and all readers that the humongous pile of dirty, semidirty, and clean clothes remains to the side of my bed, and the bag stuffed full of junk mail with my personal information that I intend to shred/burn at some later date will continue to become more stuffed.  The bed of crumpled receipts, folded papers, emergency pads, and gum wrappers will remain in the bottom of all my bags.

Also, the clutter on my desk at work will likely not shift until I graduate, which is pretty funny considering I always had the second messiest desk in grade school.  It was a balancing act of supreme precision, achieving a relaxing level of crumpled papers without crossing the line into the dangerous territory of having the contents of your desk dumped out onto the floor in front of all your classmates by your teacher.  Old habits die hard.  

Actually, I was always kind of jealous of those girls who had the coordinated pencil cases, binders, folders, pens, pencils, scissors, etc.  We always had salvaged remains from the office buildings where my dad fixed elevators, and let me tell you, corporate America does NOT indulge in Lisa Frank or Hello Kitty office supplies, the heartless bastards.  And my brother and I weren't allowed to use permanent markers because of the fumes, and we were forbidden from doodling on the binders anyway, because if we messed them up, we wouldn't have any new things for the following year.  ...Not that they were new when we got them, or would they be any newer the next year, but ours was not to wonder why...

So, a long story short, I've always been terrible at organization.  I don't have a calender book, yet I somehow manage to remember everything despite terrible forgetfulness.  Imagine how smart I'd be if I actually wrote the stupid things down and freed up all that brainiacal hard drive.  Instead of starting there and doing something concrete that might actually change my life for the better, I'm starting here!  In cyberspace!  Doing something that neither benefits my current research nor my future!  

But it makes me happy, and it's better than nothing, no?