Craving Organization

In writing this blog, I realized how difficult it's becoming for me to decide what "label" should go with a particular blog post. "Is this post really about me, or zombies," I ask myself. "What about meta-zombies"?

I'm big into organization. Everything around me needs to have some "place" it belongs to. That's where my computer goes; where my laundry goes; where all my files go; how my finances are to be organized. Even clothes, the more "messy" things in life, have a "spot" I throw them to. Back in college, it was the foot of my bed and the couch. (Vince and Kev would remember). It might have looked disorderly, but there was an organization and cleanliness to it that worked quite well. Jackets tended to pile up on the couch, where they could be easily grabbed while you were walking out the door. Pants and shirts accumulated on the bed, which made it easy to grab them when I went to take my morning shower. The system worked.

This is one of the reasons why I hardly ever decorate. Room/wall accessories have no real...place. They're supposed to be arbitrarily cutesy by some standard unknown to me. You should've seen my room in PCV my sophomore year. Four white walls. All bare and devoid of decor or color. Trust me, it looked pretty depressing. Of course, I didn't mind, but I totally understood V when she decried my lack of taste in room accommodations.

I guess decorating just isn't my thing. 

But organization sure is. It got to the point where someone asked what race I was. Yes, really. It happened while I's running tech for IV, where everything has to be done/wrapped/turned on just right or something will break. The conversation was:

"What race are you?"

"Uh...white?"

"Oh. No, I mean...well, it's just that some cultures really value organization and stuff."

Now, I'm not the most knowledgeable guy when it comes to culture, society, and race. But...a race that's known for its organizational skills? Really? Wouldn't I have noticed how one particular race happened to have all the secretary jobs. 

Maybe it's because the Jewish side of me is also Russian, and Tetris was originally a Russian puzzle game. Man, I'm a whiz at that. And even when I have my bad days in-game, I'll never be beat when it comes to packing a car. Back when I worked at VONS, I was in my prime. I's burnin' it up. I knew exactly how many paper-in-plastic "units" could fit in a single cart. When I saw groceries comin' down the conveyor belt, I managed a storm of questions in my head about what should go with what. (In general, don't put the Drano w/ the bad seal in w/ the baby formula). I rejoiced at the chance to help customers to their car; I reveled in the skill it took to bend space-time to get all those groceries in one trunk. 

I am an organizational god. 

Sometimes, whilst coding, I'll hit the programmer's equivalent to writers block. Why? Because I can't get around this problem: "This shouldn't go here, but it's an exponentially larger amount of work to fix it. I don't have the time to refactor it, but I don't want to perpetuate poor coding standards." It's a terrible dilemma. I'm just glad most of the world doesn't have to carry the burdens we software engineers do.

When I reorganized my music collection, there was no other compelling reason than "It's not as organized as I want it." (To be fair, my music was a mess. I'd been tossing all sorts of files, all w/ terribly encoded meta data, into one folder. It was terrible to look at). So I kicked down that door and laid down the law. Now - you guessed it - I've got a program to do it for me. Whenever I drop new music into the folder, it can kick into gear and put my songs exactly where I want them. Every time. No worrying. 

People who read this probably didn't know me in high school. But those in college know how I spiked my hair for many years. That came out of a long-standing tradition I started all the way back in 5th grade. Vince will agree with me on the reason why: b/c I wanted my hair to look exactly the way I wanted it to, and I wanted it to stay that way all day. Ever notice how spiked-hair-people don't want you touching their head? And when you try and sneak up on them to do it, it's almost like they can sense you coming? Yeah, that's organization at work. They've got it just right. Just the way they want it. We don't want you and your hands comin' in and mussing things up. 

But, you might note that I no longer spike my hair. Where is my precious organization. Fair point. Now, I just shave it all off. It's all the control of spiking my hair without the product, time in the morning, and...well, hair. (But at least V is more at peace w/ it than my spikes. She might now admit it, but she did not like my pointy head). 

So there's no excuse any more. You know someone who can organize anything. Rooms, cars, desks, relationships: you name it, I can be sure to rip it apart and put it back better.