Sometimes, I feel like my life is an old car—with more than 150,000 miles on it, at least. The AC works just enough to keep the interior a musty lukewarm, and you can barely hear the weird squealing noise the brakes make over the sound of the sputtering engine.
But it still works, so I keep driving. The oil light comes on, and I take care of that. Then, the tire light and the engine light and so on.
It’s a patchwork of quick fixes to the most urgent issues of the day.
Now, realistically, I understand that part of this feeling is just regular adulthood woe, and part of it stems from perfectionism. Still, I’d be lying if I discounted the role of my less-than-perfect organizational skills.
Earlier this afternoon, I was listening to an episode of The Guilty Feminist, and they talked for a bit about “creative chaos.” I tried to use that to justify my daily disarray, but, if I’m honest, the disarray doesn’t come from creativity; it inhibits creativity.
I’ve tried organizational apps and day planners and calendars, but nothing has stuck. I haven’t tried a bullet journal yet, so for today’s act of spontaneity, I decided to get one started. I don’t expect to see overnight improvement, but I’m ready to try something new.
The notebook I chose has already had many lives—a teaching reflection journal and a joke log from when I considered dabbling in comedy, to name a few—but that makes it perfect for this role. Third time’s the charm?
Check out my “About” page for more information on The Spontaneity Project.
The Spontaneity Project 