The Consequences of Being Born a Pig

I’ve been in this hotel room for an hour tops and look at the chaos I’ve already created. My crap is everywhere! What I don’t understand about this scenario is that I am clean and organized in my mental image of myself. Why is this?

I’m just gonna say it: I blame my mother! I blame it on the disorganization gene!

Okay, well I wish it was that easy. There really is a disorganization gene but it has more to do with the actual gene mutating into a disorganized mess than it does with my being messy. Apparently disorganization is not genetic; it’s primarily a learned behavior and it can be unlearned.

For the few of you that have actually received a grand invite into the Fox Household it was either for a holiday or my mother wasn’t actually home to acknowledge the event. She is so embarrassed of the mess that nobody is allowed inside the house. However, if you actually made it in and you wade through the clutter, up the stairs, and down the hallway you’ll find one clean room: mine. But I’m not quite sure this makes me clean; I have the feeling it has more to do with denial or rebellion.

For example, I can reassure you that none of my Boston apartment-mates think of me as clean. By the end of the week there is usually a massive pile of clothes, shoes and books in the middle of my room.

This creates a perpetual clash of stress within myself. I am messy, but I feel the constant need to be clean!

Things I do that simultaneously stress me out and de-stress me at the same time:

-To-Do lists: Endless, repetitive to-do lists in my excessively large moleskin assignment pad. I love crossing things off, but I will never be fully de-stressed considering that the to-do list of life is never-ending.

-Cleaning my room: Everytime I get stressed over work or a boy or whatev, my room explodes; invisible tornadoes rampage the place. And then, a week or so later I clean it up. I stress again, and on and on.

-Documenting: I keep records of everything. I can tell you that on January 19, 2005 Saz and I went to the library and then to her place to play guitar. That was five years ago. Sure, it’s fun to remember, but it’s also insane OCD. I stress out when I forget to write something down! I HATE IT.

So what do I do? Do I ban these activities from my day-to-day routine? Will I eventually get over the withdrawal stress of not doing them? I’ve tried and I always come back! That ridiculously catchy line from the Smallville theme song comes to mind…”Somebody saaaaaave me” I seriously don’t know what to do about this problem.

Apparently one can be both messy AND OCD. I just wish I could be content with who I am.

~ by rachfox on December 27, 2009.