I know what I have to do, but I’m too scared to do it.
The time goes by so fast. If this continues, my life will have been spent crippled by fear instead of actually living.
Will it always be painful and awkward like this?
the drift of words
carried along by a slow, meandering current, growing together in a field, windswept into swirling digressions
My preferred alternative to March Madness
Every year during March Madness, readers of The Consumerist vote for the Worst Company in America, which earns a distinctive award called The Golden Poo.
The 2012 Semifinalists are AT&T, Walmart, Bank of America, and EA. Each matchup gets a blog post that summarizes each company’s most egregious customer service screw-ups, and includes a link to a poll where you cast your informed vote.
Someone reminded me to think of life in terms of seasons. This bad one feels like it will last forever, but it won’t. (It may give way to a worse one, but at least it’ll be different. Maybe it will even be good.)
I’m salvaging this bad day with Andrew Bird’s new album at First Listen.
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I don’t think I phrased this question correctly. Of course, neatness (or lack thereof) is just a minor characteristic—nothing big enough to make anyone’s heart or mind work differently.
Messy living spaces are often associated with depression or some other form of mental illness, but I seriously doubt that every messy room signals something amiss with its inhabitant. Some people like to say that a messy room is a sign of genius, but I doubt that’s true, either.
I guess I meant to ask: does messiness signal anything significantly different about a person? Is neatness the norm, from which messiness is the deviation? At least, it seems that messiness is at least a bit socially deviant or frowned upon, because we so often end up apologizing for it.
I can’t shake a weird feeling that something is wrong with me because my place is always messy. During the course of the inevitable parent-child conflicts about the state of my room, I got the strong impression that being messy was morally wrong and it meant that I was crazy.
I suppose none of it really matters that much, as long as you can find what you need most of the time.
Do you think the state of your bedroom (or living space in general) reflects the state of your heart and mind? Or does it merely show whether or not you are lazy?
