Methodically organized, and searching for a purse

I truly believe that personal organization communicates volumes about those around us. A fellow intern at The Oregonian once told me that a messy car is a sign of a good newspaper reporter. I've wondered, since that day with Taylor Dungjen, if the mess indicated a creative soul or a dedication to anything but cleaning.

Early on, I kept myself from getting pigeon-holed into any one role in the newsroom. But on that day, I knew I was not destined to be a reporter.

In my car, surfaces gleam. The pile of the floormats, though it's been months since the last vacuum, still stand at attention. It's like they've hardly been stepped on ... or spilled on ... or crushed under loads of unwashed laundry. Sure, I eat breakfast in my car during the five-minute drive to work. However, my car does not have that lived-in feeling. I could count the contents of my car's cubbyholes and crevices on one hand.

It's obvious. I've reached a level of obsessive compulsive disorder that some people only dream about.

Organization is a learned skill and an inherited trait. I can't take all of the credit for masterful color coding and meticulous tidiness. I think a lot of people have segments of their life for which they are very organized. Many people are extremely organized at work, when they may not be at home. Other people have almost ritualistic routines for maintaining and caring for their belongings.

You bet I know where my
compass is. 

In my case, search and rescue gear get's a very specific type of organization. My search pack is obsessively packed in exactly the same way, until I find a better way to do it. My uniform pants, shirts, gloves and hats are maintained and organized in ways that make it very easy for me to use and find them right when I need them. Many of my co-searchers are also this way about their personal (and the unit's) gear because our lives could literally depend on it.

But let's face it: My life does not depend on the organization of my wallet.

I was visiting a friend on Wednesday and she saw that I was about to walk into her room. She stopped me and said, "Don't go in there." I said, "It's not that bad." She knew I was silently fascinated with -- and perhaps judging -- her personal organization. Her room was a disaster area and should have been posted, "Area 51. Enter at your own risk." However, she's organized and so are her thoughts.

Does obsessive personal organization reflect scattered and frantic thoughts?

Fantastic work tote.

My work tote, a great find from my mom over Christmas break, has structure and pockets. It's got enough space for all my work accessories and I have no problem reaching in over the side and finding what I need without looking. I can usually even grab the red pen, instead of the black one. It stays packed even over the weekend and I've finally got something that stays put together even when not in use.

I've organized my car, my wallet, my desk(s), my work tote and my makeup bag to the point that I can unpack and pack again without noticing a difference. It's become an obsessive, controlling lifestyle. I tried living like my messy buddy. It lasted about a day before I picked my clothes up off the floor. I just couldn't bring myself to leave empty takeout cups on my desk. I like it clean for when inspiration strikes and I need to go nuts on some fantastic design.

Perhaps what's more interesting about my personal organization style is what is not organized: My bathroom counter (covered with makeup containers and brushes), my t-shirt drawer (contains anything I might ever wear for PJs) and my purse are just a few places that lack any sign of logic.

This could be any girl's bathroom.

The bathroom counter doesn't bug me at all. I love that it looks organic and it's become as much a part of me as my favorite books or my computer desktop. It's only what I need and nothing that I don't. The purse, on the other hand, is nothing but a satchel to throw in assorted belongings. I think it's time that I became an adult and had a real-person purse, rather than an Old Navy sack with a faux-leather braided handle (from roughly 2005).

In more ways than one, I need structure, pockets and another tube of Burt's Bees that has its own permanent home. Perhaps that's a reflection of how my thoughts are organized.