One Size Does Not Fit All

 Did you make a New Year's resolution to get organized? If so, you're not alone, and every retailer and shopping network knows it. As you go in search of the perfect tool, remember that one person's perfect solution is another person's waste of money. Containers don't organize people; people organize people. 

If you're in search of some non-traditional, more personalized ways of getting it together, I invite you to peruse my other blog, Organizing by STYLE or perhaps even pick up a copy of Know Thyself: The Imperfectionist's Guide to Sorting Your Stuff. (If you go to amazon.com, you can read enough of the beginning to get the flavor of the whole book). 

Whatever you do, don't let your desire for clear spaces make you desperate. As you drop that bin or basket or planner into your virtual shopping cart (or hold it in your hand), really think about whether it's going to work for you, rather than simply for the person who benefits from its sale. Be realistic about what you are and are not willing to do, and don't label the latter as laziness. 

Happy shopping. I hope you find just what you're looking for.

Yesterday, while my husband and I were browsing at the warehouse club near my parents' home, I came across a spiral-bound planner. It was done in lovely florals and pastels and reeked of optimism. I couldn't help myself. I picked it up. I opened it, and was immediately overcome by one thought...

Are they kidding? If I could fit my life into these skinny little columns, I wouldn't need  a planner!

Nearby, a binder called "the ultimate organizer" (in soothing lower case letters) also called out to me. This one offered to be the tool that put my life in order, but all I could think was that if I had time to file things by category and use all the lovely labels and folders provided in this beautiful, Type A tool, I would have already done so, which would render this system just as useless as the planner.

Don't get me wrong. I'm sure these organizers work for someone, and that someone will be overjoyed to not only flip through these tools, but purchase them and take them home. There, they will use them and reap the benefits proclaimed on the front covers.

It's just that I'm not that someone.

Those of us who struggle to keep things in order can be easily seduced by pretty covers and promising proclamations. The market is glutted with organizational tools that tease us with the hope of an end to clutter and easy retrieval of important materials and information. Unfortunately, if you don't think the way the planner thinks (so to speak), these pretty problem-solvers merely end up becoming part of the mess rather than the way out of it.

For the past several years, I've spent the early months of the school year teaching my fifth graders about organization. Far from a Type A paradigm of organizational virtue myself, I've taught my students not an organizational method, but the need to respect their own style of organization. What I hope they will be able to do by the end of these lessons is exactly what I did at that warehouse club - pick up a tool, evaluate its effectiveness for them and either purchase it or put it back based on an informed assessment of its attributes, not the promises it proclaims or the how pretty it will look on a shelf.

As you approach the new year and consider your organizing challenges, see if you, too can find a way to make your tools fit you rather than the other way around. Resolve not to begin the new year as a slave to a three-ringed or spiral-bound dictator. If you buy a pretty package, make sure you know what you plan to put in it.

Because after all, you can't judge a book by its cover - or an organizer by its promises.

Planner photo taken from Amazon.com.

At the time of this blog's posting, it was temporarily out of stock.

Creativity

 A couple of years ago, I started trying to balance productivity with creativity and other pursuits that allow my mind to wander with no intended destination. The purpose was not so much to step out of my box as to expand its walls so that I'd learn to appreciate the act of creativity or cogitation itself, rather than only crediting myself if the finished product checked a box.

In the interim, I've spent more time on word puzzles, collages, and even crocheting. I've considered the uses of mindfulness beyond meditation and expanded my definition of creativity. I've continued to look for interesting ways to organize my home and my life and to add pops of color to my house as I redecorate and reconfigure spaces.

The collages have been my favorite, allowing me to play with colors, and textures, and layers -- something that's an important part of writing, albeit from a different angle. I used to love doing these for friends when I was in college, using words and scraps from magazines and newspapers to incorporate their personalities onto the page.

With my collages now, I'm looking less for defining characteristics and more for interesting combinations -- another thing that matters a lot in writing. Reading about junk journaling and trash collages has allowed me to see junk mail, paper scraps, and broken things as potential ingredients in something larger and more interesting.

Having always defined creativity in traditional and somewhat narrow terms, I never really thought of myself as creative in the visual arts. My sketches don't look like the objects or people I use as my inspiration. I'm not particularly adept at painting, nor do I have the patience for it (unless, perhaps, it's paint by numbers). I can execute a chain stitch, a single stitch, and a double stitch in crochet, and I can sew a reasonably straight seam, but I lack faith in my ability to turn those basic skills into a finished product that resembles much of anything useful.

Clearly, I've muddled creativity and productivity, but, as I've explored creativity, and expanded my definitions, I've actually begun to rethink all of this. The simple act of creativity itself has so much to offer, whether or not it becomes something more. 

And so I'm very excited to explore the newest addition to my bookshelf, which arrived on Saturday and which I opened almost immediately. A simple, but colorful list of 1001 creative pursuits, it promises to expand my definition, and the walls of that original box, even further. I hope that, by extension, I'll increase my appreciation for my own creative instincts, impulses and abilities as well.

Definitely a fun way to start a new year. 

What creative pursuits will you incorporate this year?

 

Getting Started, No Matter What Day it Is

 I saw a post on social media yesterday that coined the word "Blursday" -- suitable for those days during a vacation when it's a challenge to figure out what day of the week it is. 

A perfect fit for the last week. Or today, for that matter.

Mind you, I know that it's New Year's Day. But I still have to stop and think about what day of the week it is, a condition that is unlikely to improve significantly until I go back to work later this month. 

Since it's the first day of a new month -- and a new year! -- I'll spend some time today setting goals for the month. This is a practice I enjoy, especially in the months when I keep myself in check and set goals that are likely to inspire growth, rather than frustration. 

Each month, I set goals in the areas of health/self-care, reading, writing/creativity, organizing, and work, with an occasional addition based on what I am working on/want to accomplish. Some goals are meant to nudge me forward, others to rein me in, keeping me from setting enormous expectations that will only frustrate and overwhelm me.

I use a specific notebook for my goal-setting, so the first step today will be to set up that notebook. I don't usually need to do this but today, as I turned the page from December to January, I discovered that I'd used the last page in the section of my notebook that's formatted the way I like for this task (big blank blocks, as opposed to typical notebook pages). Undeterred, I headed to my office in search of pages in a similar format and found some old calendar inserts that will do the trick. They are outdated, and will need a little primping to bring them up to snuff but, to me, that's a bonus. I get to start with a bit of creativity, which is sure to enhance the whole process. 

Doing this process twelve times a year, as opposed to the one-and-done of New Year's resolutions helps me to pause each month and consider what matters to me in the moment. Old goals can be updated, or scrapped entirely, and new goals can be added or used to replace a goal that has been accomplished or one that's no longer suitable. If I don't quite hit the mark, it's not a problem -- I can try again the next month.

Some people do New Year's resolutions. Others do monthly goals, or choose words to represent or shape the coming year. Still others ignore this process entirely. 

Which one are you?

Image by Rosy / Bad Homburg / Germany from Pixabay

A Writing Posts with a Few Random Links (It's Scary in my Brain)

LibelSanRo via Pixabay

  I started writing this post yesterday -- one of my typical the-semester-is-over-and-now-I-can-write posts. I was struggling a bit with what I wanted to say, though, so I switched gears and wrote something else -- something that had a deadline -- and it wasn't until last night that I realized that I'd never finished this one, let alone posted it.

Yeah. That about sums it up.

The semester is over, and I want to do all the things, as my friend Sarah says. I want to write. I want to read. I want to sleep in. I want to wrap presents. I want to organize actual and virtual things. I want to watch random television and videos, like the YouTube video of David Schwimmer on The Great Stand Up to Cancer Bake Off I found completely by accident last night. 

I want to shrink my pile of magazines by actually reading them instead of just recycling them to get them out of my way. I want to finish the jigsaw puzzle that's been on the table in the sunroom for too many months. I want to spend time with the people I love but, truth be told, I also want to have stretches of time where I can revel in the peace and quiet that allows my creativity to flow. 

I suspect that somewhere, in the recesses of my brain, I actually believe I can do all these things -- maybe even in the same day (okay, maybe two days). My rational brain tells me this is ridiculous, but the pleasure circuits in my brain extend their little neurons and beg for massive doses of neurotransmitters (kinda like that plant in Little Shop of Horrors). 

And so I start things and finish a few. Others get abandoned or curtailed by some annoying necessity like making dinner. And writing, which is a bit amorphous at the moment because I'm between projects, gets set aside in favor of something else. 

The space between projects is an odd one. Sometimes, it's a barren landscape, which is terrifying. Will I ever have an idea again? If so, will it be different enough from what I've already written to stand on its own?

World-fly via Pixabay

Happily, I have a couple of ideas, along with finishing touches that need to be done on the novel I'm ready to submit to agents and the middle grade ebook that needs a cover. But the ideas right now are just that -- ideas -- and not even the Not Ready for Prime Time Players (to steal a phrase from SNL).

I'm not yet sure how I want the next paragraph to start so please excuse me while I move laundry from the washer to the dryer.

I'm back.

As the space between semesters collides with the space between projects, I'm slowly realizing that I need a transition period -- one that allows the productivity-seeking part of my brain an opportunity to shift gears. This is a tad challenging during a season that comes with more than its own fair share of lists, but allowing my writing to emerge instead of scribbling it down as one other item on a to-do list might be a great way to afford myself that luxury.

So, what will my writing look like? Most likely, it'll be a bit like the recipes I'm dusting off for the holidays. A cup of reading, which immerses me in someone else's words and often leads me down the what-if road so essential to fiction and idea generation. A cup or so of journaling, where the ideas can run free, rather than being confined to a particular topic. A pinch of writing prompts and sprinkle of writing exercises to add some structure, but not the strictness of paragraphs and chapters. 

And finally, perhaps most important, time spent among characters -- the real ones that surround me and the fictional ones taking shape in my mind and, eventually, on the page. They are, after all, at the heart of whatever this is I'm trying to do.  

Beauty and the Books

 

Last weekend, we visited my daughter and helped her relocate an entertainment center from the home of a co-worker into her living room. We outsourced the actual moving part, which meant our job responsibilities were primarily set-up and organization of the new piece of furniture upon its arrival.

As part of the organization, I got to place her books, a job I love doing. When we were finished, the shelves looked lovely (if I do say so myself), with an underlying organizational system that will allow her to quickly put her hands on whatever book she's looking for.

Organizing and books. Very few pairings that make my heart sing quite so vociferously. 

Over the weekend, I finally made time to tackle the bookshelf in our mudroom. I've been clipping pictures of pretty book cases featuring tidy shelves with an artistic co-mingling of books and decorative items, and I wondered if I could pare back my collection (or re-configure it, at least) to accomplish some version of the same thing.

Meanwhile, in preparation for this task, I've been working on taming my book-buying habit by getting ebooks whenever possible (cheaper, no shelf space needed) and borrowing single-read books, like novels, from the library. I've gotten a bit more ruthless about donating books that I might read, keeping only the ones that truly interest me. Since I donate to the library, I figure that chances are good that I'll be able to check out my own copy of the book should I someday regret giving it away.

When I was finished, I had a small pile of books to give away and a few little niches where I could display a favorite photo or memento. In addition, I'd pressed a small, decorative suitcase into service, storing one category of books inside it (and, to be honest, a handful of books behind it) to make the bottom shelf look a little fancier. I relocated a file bin, freeing up some bonus space and improving the overall look even more. My shelves didn't look like the ones in the magazines, but they looked a lot better than they had at the outset.

As I agonized over which books to keep and which to get rid of, I realized that some of the books had been taking up space for a long time, and yet I hadn't cracked them open. My new spend-less-money-on-books (among other things) campaign was working, but library books have a due date; books I own do not. 

So, I set a new goal for myself, one that would balance what I own with what I borrow. Each day, I'll spend ten minutes on a book I already own. A few of these sessions will be sufficient to let me know which books are keepers, and which are just taking up space, waiting to go in the donation bin. 

That night, I spent close to an hour on one of the non-fiction books I'd "discovered," reading chapters out of order based on what looked interesting. I might (or might not) finish the book and I might or might not keep it, but the reading was pleasurable. 

The next night, I read only material I needed for work. Oops.

But, since every new day presents a new opportunity (and I was at least 50 minutes ahead anyway), each day, I can pick up where I left off, or pick up a new book. The end goal is to keep my shelves filled with only books I love, minimizing clutter and making space for my new must-haves in the process.

Meanwhile, I love the new look of my shelves, and I have a new stack of donations for the library.

Win-win.

AI-generated books via Pixabay.com

Transition

 Yesterday was the last day of classes for fall semester. This semester, that means that today is a wonderful invention called "Reading Day," a day when instructors ostensibly read and grade work and students allegedly study for final exams. I say "this semester" because Reading Day isn't always a given and, when we get such a day, I'm immensely grateful.

It feels strange not to have any classes to prep for or teach, an occurrence to which my mind has not yet adjusted. I know this because it's still whirring away, generating a constant school-related buzz. I was awake in the wee hours of the morning, for example, worrying about students who are in danger of failing, somehow managing to shoulder a blame that isn't mine to own. While it was easy to differentiate their responsibilities from my own in the light of day (and upon further examination of my grade book), logic worked less well at 4AM, as is often the case.

Today, I am intentionally seeking balance -- a little bit of school work (final projects to grade), a little bit of around-the-house stuff, and a little bit of Christmas. Gradually, the school work will recede and my time will be my own again for the most part, until classes begin again in January. 

Meanwhile, my goals are reasonable, beginning with the hope of a better night's sleep tonight, now that I have done all that I can do.

Friday Feature: What I'm Reading

 I've been pondering Friday Features for a couple weeks now, and I'm finally sitting down to write one. It's no coincidence that I'm doing this on the last Friday of classes, when the semester is winding down, and the first Friday in December, when my reading for the month (and the year) is ramping up. 

This week's set of books is a pretty accurate reflection of who I am and what I read (and, yes, I read them all concurrently). Anchoring the pile is The Twentysomething Treatment, a book I didn't put on my Christmas list because I didn't want to wait until after Christmas to start reading it. As the parent of a twenty-something, and an instructor to young adults on the cusp of that decade, I was excited to read therapist Meg Jay's take on why this decade is so hard (too much uncertainty for a still-developing brain to navigate) and what to do about it (spoiler alert: medication is not always the answer). I'm just a few chapters in and I'm looking forward to digging into it when I finish my grades for the semester.

Atop that non-fiction choice are two others: a beautifully illustrated book of London landmarks (London: A Guide for Curious Wanderers by Jack Chesher) and a book of interviews of the cast, creators, and personnel responsible for a show I watch regularly in syndication (The Big Bang Theory: The Definitive, Inside Story of the Epic Hit Series by Jessica Radloff). I'm only a few chapters into the latter but, as a writer, I'm lapping up the character development that took the series from a failed pilot to a beloved series. And, as a regular viewer of that series, I find it fun to read about the behind-the-scenes happenings directly from the people involved with creating the show each week. And London? We're saving up for a trip, and I hoped this book would give me ideas for fun things to add to the itinerary as well as motivating me to put a little less cash into short-range purchases and a little more toward long-range plans. 

The slim paperback at the top of the pile? A script for The Savannah Sipping Society (Jones Hope Wooten), a play that's part of the current season at my local community theatre. It's been too long since I've done a show so, when one comes along with characters (roughly) my age, it's worth a read. 

The only thing missing from the pile is a novel with a feisty female protagonist because I haven't found one that keeps me invested in said feisty female. But I'm optimistic that there's one on my Kindle, just waiting for me to dig in, once I finish with the semester. 

Until then, I'm happy with the pile below, and all the friends that keep it company.