compartmentalizing
Boxes. Lots of nice, safe, separate boxes.
I am currently living out of boxes. My life seems to be scattered in them, or filled with them. I have them at my parents house, others at my friends house, and the rest in my room, partially unpacked. Most are labeled and categorized so that I know what is needed or important. Labels like “kitchen, books, text books, potato heads,…” you get the idea. Anyway, it looks like I am going to be living out of boxes for a while. Like as in a couple of years. Boxes and suitcases……. yay…. (note the lack of capitalization or exclamation marks to emphasize the “non excitement” and sarcasm I am feeling as I write this)
“So, what”, you ask, “is the point of letting us in on this little detail of your life” (by you, and us, I mean me, as I talk to myself and don’t care or plan on anyone else reading this, it is mainly for my benefit)? Well, my friend, Let me tell you (and by friend I once again mean myself).
I find myself not only compartmentalizing my stuff, but also my digital representation, my social life, and even my time. I have recently created a Youtube channel that I may start using to just mess around and be stupid with. I might post funny things I have done with my friends or even just random videos of me talking about my facial hair. Who knows. I have started several blogs and even started keeping some writing to myself on my computer, all of which are for different topics or cover different areas of my life. I created a new twitter account to represent my online persona that would be linked with this blog, and my youtube channel (if it ever actually happens). Then I have my other twitter account for my actual life and people I know.
Then there is my time and social life. I have started trying to allot the amount of time I spend with my friends. Trying to keep it even; as well as making sure I spend more time on my own. I seem to be trying to organize everything.
Of course this all goes way back. Now that I think about it, I have always liked things to be separate. I was, and still am, the kid that doesn’t like my vegetables touching my bread or meat. Sweet dishes may not come in contact with the savory on my plate. This rule, of course, does have a few exceptions, ie. cranberry sauce and dressing.
But why do I do this? What is the point? Why do I feel the need to separate my life? Maybe it is a need to not feel out of control. Maybe I am a bit OCD. Maybe mixed food reminds me of vomit. Maybe I don’t know?
I have a feeling that just like my room, my life will only stay ordered and separate for just a little while before I give in and let it all and mix and get out of control. But my food will never cross the carful constructed lines I have created and mingle where they don’t belong.
