posted by admin in Uncategorized
I am the guy with the messy room. I am the guy you look at, with neat hair and who looks after himself clothes wise (for the most part) who has a room which has been the same messy hell-hole ever since he was an angst-ridden teenager. Yes, I am one of those rare people who doesn’t mind that nothing is find-able and it stinks. And yes, I happen to think that actually, being messy can be quite a good thing.
I’m not talking filthy rat-infested messy. That is not cool. I’m not even talking pizza-under-the-bed-discovered-for-the-first-time-in-three-months messy (and it still looks amazingly edible, actually). I am talking conventional messy: clothes everywhere, CDs in a pile, open books open on the floor just in case I wake up and think “Ooh, I wouldn’t mind reading a bit of that there.”
Why do I think messiness is something that is cultural and should be preserved? Because organisation is taking over, of course. And every day I go to work and need to know where things are, so I can’t be messy there. It’s not allowed. So when I come home it is, in a bizarre but animalistic kind of a way, like going home to my cave to discover the primal things where they primally need to be. And despite the connotations of mess, it does me no harm. I go on every day as I do, and I have a weird kind of way of knowing where things are which enables me to navigate this absurd hovel in a way in which I and only I know how. Great. (Except for when I am in a mad rush and can not find my Ski insurance…That is actually not good in the least and something to avoid at all costs…)