There is a short list of words that do not describe me. Regular, for one. And organized. Steady, stable, organized.
Don’t get me wrong. I do accomplish things. And you can usually count on me to do whatever it was you asked me to. Just not exactly when I said I would. I have this incredible incapacity to do things at a regular pace. I do everything all at once, or not at all. Writing, for instance. One day, I may get a short story and three poems, and then, for the next week, nothing. Or I’ll get a song and never bother to write it down.
So, this is my excuse for not writing but once last week: I’m not lazy, just irregular. It’s all in me head, these big plans for my little website, but it’s going to happen at my pace, which is to say, in spurts and fits.
Of course, it doesn’t help that my vast storehouse of creative writing was lost forever a few months ago. I’m slowly tracking it down, piece by piece, but it’s taking a while. Then I have to organize it, re-edit everything, make quality hard copies so it never happens again, and re-enter everything into the computer. But in the mean time, you only get them as I write them, and I’m about as steady an element as plutonium.
Here’s the current plan: I’m going to try to put something up every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Very likely, that will mean quite a few blogs of the diary type. I those, but everybody else seems to like them, so we’ll probably all be quite happy. If I can’t keep up, I’ll move down to Tuesdays and Thursdays.
On a side note: My school has thought up a very creative way to get people in the dorms to become more acquainted. We have these card-access Laundromats in each dorm. Last year, everybody got a card with a number on the back of it and it was written down in a computer somewhere which number went to what person. Everybody was constantly losing their card. You tell yourself, “Self, I’m going to take the card out as soon as I select my washer.” Then you put your card in the machine, you start the machine, there’s a slight delay, and in that delay you get bored. You decide to go ahead put the clothes in. Then, since you’re already there, you decide to put the soap in and turn on the machine. At this point, you’ve completely forgotten that you didn’t obey your own orders and take the card out immediately after selecting the machine, and you wander off toward your room. Your poor little card is stuck in the machine with a sniffle, saying, “she doesn’t love me.” It’s very sad.
The problem was, when the next person comes and tries to put his card in the slot, there’s already a card there. He takes it out and the only ID on the card is 01148. He has no idea whose card it is. Worse yet, he’s already lost his card in the same manner, but doesn’t realize it until he reaches into his wallet and pulls out… nothing. He then takes the card that was already in the reader, with the thought of, “well somebody already did it to me. This was probably my card in the first place.
Well, we’ve fixed all that now. Now, when you lose your card in the machine, your NAME is written on the back (somebody was brilliant). This means that whoever finds a card left in the reader, now can tell exactly whose card it is, and somehow feels obliged to return it. This is very easy, since everyone’s name is written on their door. We get to meet all kinds of new friends this way. The trick is, only the first name is written on the door. I just found a card named Ashley. There are three Ashleys in my dorm. All of them are at class. I put the card on top of the reader.
Last of all, here’s you a poem:
Who is Master of my sorrows?
Who is Lord of all my grief?
The Same Who is my Savior
The one who delivers me.
neumatikos 