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Maybe they'd have to hold each other when it rose, all organe and full and close. Maybe that's where our romantic notions about the moon first came from. Two people holding each other to keep their hearts from breaking, because everybody they knew was dying in the cold rocks and dust piles a quarter million miles away...
The Brothers K
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mandag, september 01, 2003
I've been in this weird mood lately, I think brought on by everyone who is moving out from SRC. I have this deeply rooted desire to clean my living space. And not just clean, like wipe surfaces or vacuum or do laundry, but ORGANIZE, or even begin packing for the 9th when I move out. I'd like to rid myself of all the extra shit that just sits around stagnating in my room. Clothes I never wore went to Goodwill last weekend, and magazines I never read went into the recycling the other day. Whenever I have a spare minute, I feel the need to rip open a drawer and start tossing things I never use away. I even considered cataloging all the extra toiletries I have, so that I could a) buy backups of things I'm low on, and b) arrange them more neatly than they are arranged right now. Something sorted first by frequency of usage, and then height of container, then width of container, I think would satisfy me greatly in an unhealthy way. What's funny about this desire is that I feel safe and comforted by it. For some reason, cleaning seems to be my refuge from the rest of society and my shield from everything that stresses me out. That and shopping are what get me through the tough times. The symbolism of cleaning my room makes me feel as though I'm actually cleansing my spirit, as though somehow, by organzing my physical life, I have organized my soul as well. In a sense this is a severe manifestation of what Neal calls "The Tetris Syndrome." In Tetris, you have to place all the pieces just so, such that they minimize the number of isolated cells, and maximize the amount of contiguous empty space. Everything must fit together perfectly. When you pack boxes, do you find ways to arrange your three textbooks and a candlestick so that there's still lots of room leftover for the iron in the same box? Or do you just toss the things into boxes as they're handed to you? It's definitely an irrational compulsion, but it is somehow very satisfying when you are good at packing things such that everything is locked perfectly into its own slot.
It could also just be that I'm obsessive compulsive. =)
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