All I've Got

Writing the five page essay last class was an unexpected but enjoyable assignment. I can’t remember what led me to write about God, but it felt like a topic worthy of introspection and seemed challenging enough. If I’m going to write five paragraphs about something, the last thing I want to do is bore myself writing about something of relative unimportance. That’s one thing that I recognize about myself – the compulsive need to do everything perfectly. It’s not always a good thing. There are just some tasks in life that aren’t worth the additional time that I spend on them. Like laundry, for example. Do the shirts really need to be hung according to color? Do the hangers really need to be spaced two finger widths apart? No. But I’m aware of this and have the rational capacity to maintain a measurement of embarrassment over admitting such things, whereas a truly neurotic person does not. At least, that’s what I tell myself in consolation. So as a compromise, I only take the time to perform such detail oriented tasks if I’m aware that I’m choosing to perform them and never perform them out of compulsiveness. This is an important distinction in my book. And since I have a need to manage myself in such ways, making “rules” and such, it ends up being a pretty big book. Sigh.
You can only escape your insanity for so long; it always finds you in the end.