Fated identities justify weaknesses

For a very disorganized (and downright messy) person, I have a lot of organizational supplies…. For a very disorganized (and downright messy) person, I have a lot of organizational supplies.

With the examples, I’ll start small: the pencil cup and a crate to hold my shoes. Then we get into one of those plastic rectangular things that go in a desk drawer to hold the scissors, tape and glue. And finally, a massively complicated drawers-and-shelves contraption for the hair products and nail polish and what not.

I could go on and on. It’s a sickness. I even have one of those hanging closet organizers with all the compartments.

For me, the potential to be organized is limitless. Easily, with all this stuff, I could be the next Martha Stewart – minus the jail time, of course.

And yet my dorm room maintains a steadfast and stubborn “did a tornado just pull through here?” vibe, which I’m growing to like. There are clothes on the floor, on the bed, on the chair and poking out of dresser drawers. Nothing in that silly hanging closet contraption is folded. Nothing is contained within my many containers.

Writing utensils are scattered across my desk, tucked into various nooks and crannies. Loose change, gum wrappers and sticky notes both old and important decorate every surface. As one of my preschool students likes to say, “It’s, like, ridiculous!”

I’ll pause to state that, luckily, I live with a fine young woman who is much better at cleaning up after herself than I am, and because I don’t want her to punch me in the face anytime soon, I do an OK job of shoving my mess under the bed every once in a while. So you don’t have to be concerned about my health just yet.

How on Earth is it possible to have organization made so effortless and yet to gravitate toward chaos every time? Really now. In my room, there actually exists a place for everything – not just a desk drawer, but also a container within a desk drawer. Isn’t that supposed to be the secret?

And, beyond that, I can actually tell you exactly where to find anything, anything at all. Cleaning supplies? That shelf. Scarves? On a hanger in my closet. Bank statements? Folder labeled “PNC” in a top-secret, government-agency file.

That is, I could tell you if “anything” was in its correct place. Which it’s not.

But, I can say I’ve learned a few life lessons from this disorganized organization of mine.

First and foremost, I’ve learned/decided that some things are just not meant to be. True, that expression usually applies as a source of comfort after a ruined relationship or rejection from an Ivy League college. Here, though, it’s absolutely a source of pride.

I’m just not meant to be organized, thank you very much.

Maybe you are just not meant to be quiet. Or muscular. Or fashionable. (I’m none of those, either, no worries.)

Anyway, the good news: We can all stop trying. Here, finally, has come along a perfect justification for our weaknesses: fate. Until mold starts growing on that pile of dirty laundry under my bed, I don’t have to feel the tiniest bit bad about it. It’s the cosmos! I was born this way! And it’s dangerous to mess with the cosmos, so I’m not going to try to change anymore. I’ll take the easy way out. If life was meant to be hard, we’d all be living out giant rendition of the musical “Annie” – and I don’t look good with red hair.

The second life lesson learned here is that disorganized people are absolutely way cooler than the organized types. No, this isn’t one of those “I’m disorganized, and I’m cool, ergo”-style proofs. I’m better than that, friend.

But seriously, consider the idea: If you have one of those hat organizers (the sweet kind that hang off the back of a door), put on your thinking cap. Why am I disorganized? Because I don’t stop to, well, organize myself. I’m way too busy having a life! (Facebook stalking counts as having a life, right?) If not, running like a madwoman from one destination to the next while my ID sits mockingly on the table in my kitchen waiting for me to discover its absence in my jeans pocket definitely counts. And that is what I really do. That is what most of us disorganizers do.

In short, Colin Powell put it best when he said, “Organization doesn’t really accomplish anything.”

I’ll drink to that. Then, I’ll come home, leave my belongings in a pile on the floor and never pick them back up. E-mail Carolyn about your organizational skills at ceg36@pitt.edu.