organized chaos. and insomnia.

“baggage”. arguably, none of us venture into the journey of adulthood without it. i have always envisioned my baggage as a suitcase. a big [okay, ginormously big], brown leather suitcase. only not a chocolatey brown or shiny pleather, but more of a louis vuitton cannelle leather with a once silky-smooth exterior now cracked, worn and faded, but not tattered. it isn’t a knock-off. it’s quality. epi leather, without the obnoxious and conspicuous “LV” monogram. clearly, this piece is not a status symbol of any faux-financial affluence. i need not parade it through the streets to futily declare that i’ve prestigiously arrived. [no, that's what a lexus is for.]

some enter into this strange land with mini-pouchettes, in which only the slightest of anomalies can travel. i envy these people. yet no matter the appearance or size, all of us who have baggage know that it eventually becomes like one of the hideous heirlooms we reluctantly oblige to keep. you know the kind. the kind from your mother-in-law. the kind you can’t sell on ebay. so it will collect dust in some inconspicuous, dark place. under the bed. in the attic. or better yet, the basement. out of sight. out of mind. for some people. and i envy these people, too.

for others (read: me), unlearned necessary life skills [like moving on, letting go, saying goodbye…] are all packed neatly in the baggage, among the chaos and mementos. so, inevitably, at some point, you have to make the decision to “unpack”.

they like to cleverly disguise this process as “therapy”.

rather than unpack, i did what any other regressed obsessive compulsive would do: i organized. having already developed my pseudo-self-soothing tendency to mentally compartmentalize all sorts of aspects of my life, in hindsight, it seems i spent an enormous amount of time (and money) replacing my old suitcase with a big, shiny mental file cabinet. i’ve meticulously organized the chaos into neatly labeled files. you know, like windows explorer. instead of ‘my documents’ it’s ‘my baggage’. and then categorized sub-files, organized by subject and status.

this is the same pseudo sense of accomplishment i feel each time i go “ocd” on my closet.

which, by the way, makes me a total walking contradiction since i am, admittedly, one of the messiest people i know. that said, i will gather my clothes from my closet floor, bedroom floor, bathroom floor, piled in baskets, draped over the chaise, folded on the chest… and hang them all. meticulously. on wooden hangers, facing the same direction (left). and it doesn’t stop there. i will then sort the blouses from left to right, first in the order of sleeve length, then by color. i will do the same for skirts, pants, dresses, jackets. i will place every shoe in its original box, label facing outward and every purse on the same shelf, also sorted by color. then i will stand at the closet door admiring my work. laborious pain that will be all for naught in anywhere from a week to ten days when every article of clothing i own will invariably make its way back to the floor. because what i need to be doing is discarding instead of organizing.

which leads me to the whole point of this allegorical (and insomniacal) blogging. the same goes for the “baggage”. it’s all neatly tucked away, but easily accessible for perusing, pondering and finally, discarding. and i’m going to work on it. piece by piece. it seems a large bulk is crammed into the “crap way too difficult to deal with now so i’ll deal with it later” file. that’s a good one. one linked directly to "procrastination". but aren't they all?

i think i'll start tomorrow.


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