I've never aspired to being a neat person. Organised chaos is what I thrive on. My desk is a jumble of papers, books, notebooks and pens, with the odd flash drive peeking out for use at a moment's notice. A pride of lions watches me at work, a reminder of a wonderful holiday in the Drakensberg too long ago to pinpoint but within a decade, and a little Peter Rabbit from a visit to England since then. The lions are piled haphazardly on a chair back, while Peter Rabbit observes from the top of Chambers 21st Century Dictionary.
Mother's diary of a trip to Italy lies among the papers, waiting to be turned into another travelogue, with the aid of the pictures I took, and a new journal awaits the scribblings of the trip to come. These blogs are my practice for larger works, and a form of discipline in gathering thoughts at least once a day, rather than gazing aimlessly out to sea or across the bay towards Table Mountain. Actually, those times are not aimless, but rather a time of emptying the mind to allow new ideas to enter. After all, constant thinking is a form of clutter, and without de-cluttering, one cannot move forward.
That being said, de-cluttering my desk is never a good idea. Within a day of doing so, I will find a use for the magazine discarded, or need to refresh my thoughts jotted down on the back of a shopping list consigned to the bin. So for the moment, a little organised chaos will do.
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