If you walked by my desk, you’d see: brightly colored post-it notes, a stack of old papers, bags of untouched food, stacked empty glasses, rubber bands, and countless other items that keep my computer company. To my desk mates, my desk looks as though a small tornado breached my 4 foot area and left everything else intact. Only the day I started was my desk completely free of chaos, then I promptly took over and wreaked havoc.
Chaos is not disorder, it is simply methodical mess. Even my empty glasses has a home among my stacks of paper. The strewn objects about my desk have a place. To the wandering eye they appear as stacks of displaced items, but to me, they are where I want them to be.
My chaos keeps my mind active. To me, it isn’t mess but a way to distribute my things. If I hide the items in my desk, I will never remember that I have them. If an individual were to take a peak at my closet, they would run far away in a different direction. Clothes are everywhere (shopping addiction 1, Katie 0). To me, I have to display my new items prominently on my closest doors and about my bed. I want to wear them all at once; I don’t want them to be forgotten. Clothes are everywhere and they all want to be seen. There is order to my madness. Every mess in my life has an intentional reason for the wild displacement. Even chaos has order.