Fixin'

There's something extremely satisfying about looking into a closet of neatly-folded clothes, I realize that now. Yep, after months of putting it off and pretending I could still find my way in the mess that was my closet, I finally hauled my lazy bum to fold, organize, fold, organize. It was getting kinda difficult to look for something to wear,  what with the unrecognizable mess my clothes had become. I took everything out and nearly gave up when I saw how much folding and arranging I had to do. But I knew someone had to do it, and I knew that someone could only be me.

So that's the news for the day. 

And, oh, let me leave you with a quote, straight from the mouth of the great Sen. Miriam Santiago: "that kind of ignorance could only come from a one-celled amoeba!" Such eloquence! Astig talaga si senator!
=D

This blog has become an incoherent mess.

Will be fixing it soon.

So I putter

In some subliminal effort to get to the next page, or step into that twelve-or-forty-eight--hours-later moment, we fidget and tinker and blur our way into one long, hazy series of staccatos.

As if it would matter how we get there. As if it would cross our minds how precious energy and even more precious time are wasted in the getting-there.

Has it ever? Crossed your mind? If so, what did you do?

I had always gone on. Stopping would have meant becoming entangled in my whirl of things, tangible and otherwise.

It would have escaped me, altogether, how it is to come back.

So, move. Move.

Paper

In the office, today, I found myself buried in paper.

For a good part of the day, I sat in front of my desk, sorting loads and loads of documents, patiently weeding out the obsolete, "for-shredding" ones and trying my hardest to stack them in a neat pile, but which ended up still collapsing in an untidy heap, anyway, because I didn't have the sense to realize that once the pile got too high, it'd surely topple. I ended up squatting on the floor (and to think that I'd chosen this day, of all days, to wear skinny jeans) and put the damn things back in order.

I muttered a lot while I was at it, but in reality, I was thankful for the exercise, as it kept my mind from drifting to anxiety-land.

I looked through folders, peeped into envelopes, removed paper clips (for re-use), skimmed through pages to make sure I didn't dispose of the ones I still needed. My trusty cup of coffee, of course, sat faithfully on my desk, keeping me company, assuring me that things were alright.

And what do you know, I actually managed to cook up a semblance of order, finishing off with a clean desk, a less cluttered (I was going to type "uncluttered" but changed my mind--I can never be "uncluttered") lateral and a pedestal that I could actually put things in and not lose them after three minutes.

At the end of the day, I handed the heavy pile of unwanted documents to the cleaners, hoping that they'd end up being recycled. The documents, not the cleaners, that is.

My unkempt weekend

I am looking at a very cluttered work station; trying to figure out what to write about, how to write it, where to start, how long it will take me to write, and if I'd be able to write, at all.

I'm experiencing one of those "dry blogging spells" which intermittently come about--in my case, that is. Some bloggers have something to write about everyday. What more, they know exactly what form it would take. I am not one of those lucky people.

As further proof of my laziness, I am jotting down--in bullets--some stuff I did last weekend. Writing paragraphs can be so taxing!

I:

* cried over "Yentl." A friend finally found a copy for me, at last! I wanted to strangle Barbra Streisand for not staying and giving me the perfect ending. I mean, I'm an advocate of girl power and all, but, hey, give me my two hours worth of waiting for the girl and the guy to fall into each other's arms! Sort of how I felt after reading John Fowles' The French Lieutenant's Woman.
* watched "Love in the Time of Cholera" and put Javier Bardem from number 3 to number 2 in my top 5 favorite actors.
* watched "Sabrina" for the second time. To commit the sin of stating the obvious, Audrey Hepburn was heart-breakingly beautiful in the movie. And Humphrey Bogart was, well, old.
* helped Jackie with her Math assignment (whaddya know, I still know division!) and Kim with his subtraction. They had a week-long break from school and waited until Friday to do homework. Reminds me so much of myself, way, way back. Ah, to be a kid again. But minus the math homework, please.
* waited the entire weekend for the Internet to come back (turned out it was here, all along--story in previous post).
* went to Robinson's Place, bought a gift for my brother, rummaged through the bags on sale, tried on several pairs of shoes (without buying a single pair, I'm proud to say), and ordered a glass of Peach-Mango shake at Almon Marina. It's always Christmas in the malls, as if people had gifts to buy all the time, plus the money to buy those gifts with. Alas, not for me.

Happy holidays!

My cluttered life

I have often been teased about my "powers of organization" (please, please make sure to note the sarcasm here).

I mean, I do try my hardest to give my life some semblance of neatness and, at times, I do succeed; its in the consistency part that I fail.

A lot of people boast of being "OC" when it comes to their stuff, and, on hindsight, the farthest I've come to describing myself as such is in telling people that I am really, really fussy when it comes to brushing my teeth. If I had the chance to brush my teeth every hour, I would (I know, bad, bad).

I think the term "OC" gets abused most of the time, though; perhaps we are not aware that this is actually a chronic anxiety disorder that is way worse than we think and is very much deserving of psychiatric treatment, up to and including psychosurgery? Read more here.

Moving on, I thought I'd let you take a peek into my slipshod life...

I am in dire need of baskets and organizers. These could pass for stuff in a yard sale (but even items in yard sales are arranged in baskets and boxes, right?).


These are the clothes that I need to put away (and neatly, too).

Even the books are in disarray!


At first glance, the closet looks kinda okay, but the hill of bags below is a completely different story.


My mom will kill me if she saw what state of chaos my stuff are in.
So, my goal is: by the end of this day, I should already have fixed this mess.
But that is something I really should have done days and days ago.