My Sister and the Rocks in Her Head

I really feel the need to balance my last post with one that celebrates and praises Capitalism. However, I want to do it right, and that requires time. I haven't got time right now to do it right, so let me just pop in here and say this: I have proof that my sister had rocks in her head. And yes, I will share this evidence. (Those with ADD can scroll down now, the rest of you will wait patiently for the setup.)

In 1984, my family lived in Park City, IL, just north of Chicago. On December 23rd of that year, the weather was mild for some reason (shut up, Mr. Gore) and my sister and I were driving my mother crazy. She explained that if we wanted to live to see Christmas, we would go to the park and stay there for at least an hour (the time it takes my mother to consume 2 vodka-tonics, I assume). So off we went to the park, about a half-mile away.

I was 10 years old, my sister was seven. When my own kids reach this age, I doubt I will feel comfortable sending them 100 yards away, let alone a half-mile. In 1984, it was common for kids to run around all day long, returning home only for food and serious bathroom needs. We didn't have video games that could be played all day long, we had three channels (four if you had aluminum foil, long arms, and good balance) and there was very little fear of kidnapping. Of course, if anyone had kidnapped my sister and I, they would have regretted it quickly. We weren't much to look at but we sure were bad.

Anyhow, we are at the park and alone. Who knows where the other kids were that day. We were bored, and it was too soon to return home. This is when bad things happen, right? Boredom has got to be the most dangerous state for anyone, especially morons like my kid sister and I.

This playground did not have wood chips to break your fall like most playgrounds today; it had pea-gravel. Tiny little rocks at a playground: freaking brilliant, huh? Man, we used to whip hand-fulls of that pea-gravel at each other all the time. I would love to meet the Einstein who came up with that idea.

Oh yeah, we're talking about my stupidity, not someone else's. I had this idea to launch pea-gravel and make it rain. My sister would scoop as much pea-gravel as she could onto the seat of the see-saw (teeter-totter, whatever.) I would then push down as hard as I could on the other side of the see-saw, launching the pea-gravel into the air. Sounds like clean, harmless fun, right?

I loved to make my sister mad. I lived for it. I was addicted to it. Some people have to get a crack rock, I had to make my sister mad. In this case, my sister was serious about getting enough rocks onto the seat of the see-saw before I launched the payload. Therefore, I figured I would get a kick out of launching before she was done. As my sister will tell you to this day: Big brothers suck.

I launched as hard as I could after she had scooped only a handful of rocks onto the see-saw. Unfortunately, her head was directly in the path of the see-saw. I thwacked her hard, right in the forehead. Blood was coming out immediately, as were the inhuman screams and wailing.

I felt bad immediately. I felt guilty. I was afraid of the trouble I would be in. I was panicked: home was a long walk with two bikes, a bleeding, wailing sister, and a truckload of guilt. We made it part of the way; someone called my mom while we were en route and she came flying down the road in the car.

She took my sister to the emergency room. They found a piece of gravel under the skin of her forehead, and another identical piece in her shoe. They put both under tape to use as evidence if ever the need should arise.

My sister recovered fine. It left a tiny scar that is probably gone today. Pictures from Christmas '84 has her head wrapped in gauze, and to this day she will not go to the park with me. Other than that, we were very lucky. Any brain damage she has was probably there to begin with.

I was going through a box of keepsakes tonight and found the rocks mounted in tape. I don't know how I ended up with them, but they make a nice blog entry in a pinch. Here is evidence that my sister had rocks in her head:

The Organization Challenge (with photos)

How am I supposed to get anything done when the places that I work in are cluttered, messy, piled up, scattered, stacked, neglected, and downright disorganized? I used to say that it was just my way, that I couldn't work any other way, and other rationalizations. Any head-shrinker will tell you that one of the most common symtpoms of ADD is disorganization, lots of piles of junk that move around, but never really diminish.

However, the fact of the matter is that no human being should live a cluttered life. I am no longer living like this. I could find reasons to blame my clutter, but it doesn't make me any better.

At least once a year, I kick myself in the pants and get something uncluttered. It takes weeks, it is painful and exhausting, but I do it anyway. Sometimes it is the garage, sometimes my van, sometimes my office. Once the space is uncluttered, I am so much happier and productive--it's like a drug.

Within a month, I have undone the program and I am living the cluttered life again. It takes place slowly, and there is always a great reason for it (a busy week, bad weather, sickness, the usual...), but eventually I am a messy, unproductive slob again. In fact, I was a slob all along, I was just a neater slob for a while.

I have tried many different approaches. Notes, bins, shelves, file folders, reminders, rewards, punishments. This has been an ongoing cycle since early childhood. My four-year-old son is like this, by the way, so it may be genetic. There is something inside of me that causes this, that either desires this clutter or cannot muster up the resources to remain organized.

I am less productive at work. I lose things, I procrastinate, and I take longer to complete projects do to my clutter. I am less productive at home. My wife, who tries to keep the rest of the house in order, hates the clutter and sometimes takes it upon herself to clean up the junk. That is not fair to her. My clutter also affects my kids: the sight of clutter may depress or demotivate them, and it sets a bad example for them.

Therefore, I have begun the Organizational Challenge. By September 30th, I will have cleaned up my van, my garage, and my basement (to include my office). On October 30th, I will have kept these areas in an organized state. By November 30th, I will have blown away any record in my life at staying clean and organized. By December 30th, I will be like a new man. If these areas stay organized into 2008, then there is no telling what I will be able to accomplish in the new year. Maybe I'll run for president, since the Republicans have offered up nothing exciting and the Democrats are determined to get their heart broken by another Clinton.

This link goes to my "before" photos. I will update the album (and my blog) when progress has been made. I would really like to see some comments or emails with some strategies on how I could best get my arms around this problem (without propellants or explosives). If this is a problem you have, and you would like to participate or compete, please email me at lslobodzian@gmail.com