What? times ten trillion exclammation points! (and that makes it ten trillion and one)
KT? Organize? Organized? No way. Not a chance. Those two just don’t go together. Nope, uh uh and a no sir-ee for good measure.
My room is only organized when it’s empty. Or when my fellows aka A, daddy, or maddy have taken pity on me and organized it themselves. My notes are only organized on the first page (if that). My thoughts are…well…read this and come to your own conclusions. My movements are only organized in my dreams.
I’ve never tried to fix my messy approach to life. I rail at myself when it gets me in trouble, but for the most part I justify any mishaps with these fine words:
“If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?”
–the great Albert Einstein
But it is now incumbent upon me to organize in order to improve. No longer am I a wild whirlish dreaming physicist with flowers in her hair; I am a hardcore future orthopedic surgeon who’ll cut people and reduce shoulders and hips and be super aggressive and super superb all while rocking out to raging music or Rachmaninoff, whichever strikes my fancy thank you very much, who lifts weights between patients and is mom to dirvish wolf pups and human kids. (I will still probably wear flowers in my hair on the weekends. Nothing makes a girl run faster.)
And this new person is an organized person.
This blog too needs some organizing; who kind find all the brilliant things I’ve written here when it’s just one long scroll? Not me that’s for sure. Perhaps that’s because I only imagine I’ve written said brilliance.
Organization begins this afternoon! I will organize my body as I tackle Karen for the third time in a month. It’ll be great. (DIE KAREN DIE!) (jk you’re probably awesome.)
Before that, I’m teaching greedy algorithms to find minimum spanning trees for connected weighted graphs.
(When did highschool students start learning graph theory?)
Seeya you fine foks