Messing Around

There is never a moment I am more totally aware of the general and consistent depravity of mankind as it is when I'm cleaning-- specifically, when I am cleaning the mess of others.

Because, you know, we're used to our own messes. I'm sure everyone that might come and glance into my office would just shudder at the piles of things: stacks of paper, a mess of pens, boxes in need of breaking down and recycling, an old broken mixer on the floor, my mom's old much duct-taped office chair (currently being used to hold a pile of books), an ironing board decorated with expired coupons... and I don't really see much of it, because I hang out in this room every day. My focus is usually on either the computer screen, or Miss CinnTeak.

I could give you excuses. Technically this is my mom's sewing room, so I'm sort of wedged halfway between her great collection of sewing-related machines, fabrics, books, and other materials. But really, though I adore organization, I don't seem able to stick with it well. The one thing I will say about my messiness though, is that it is universally the 'dry' sort, made of loose papers and index cards and stacks of half-finished art projects. What I classify as the 'wet' sort of messiness involves far grosser content, like dishes with things growing on them.

But my POINT here is that I don't notice my own mess, and I think most people don't unless a guest comes over or something. We, however, notice others' messes far more. And let's face it, most of us are messy. Human beings in general are gross, and we make messes. There is a division of people who obsess over how clean their surroundings are, and take great joy in cleanliness. And really, let me ask you, what human being desires to live in squalor? There is an appeal to cleanliness, something that attracts us to the clean and well-organized. We want it, though very likely we don't want to invest the time it takes to get it.

Because having things clean, like just about anything in this world, takes effort. In a culture drunkenly stumbling further and further into the stupor of instant gratification, clean surroundings seem to be harder and harder to come by because of the effort it takes. I'll be the very first person to say that there is little enough time in life, why spend all of it just cleaning? ...But I know enough to know some cleaning is necessary. It's finding the balance between it all, you know?

But I've been bringing things out of my bro's room to empty it of furniture, and I'm still just aghast at the messiness. Aghast. I found a bowl in it that had been there so long the colorful things growing in it had died from starvation. Piles of CDs, just stacked atop each other. Empty boxes, empty bottles, empty this and that and the other. Broken things that haven't been thrown away. I'm saying, there was trash crammed into drawers. My mind just... reels. I pray for whoever he may end up marrying in the dealing with this. It's a personality trait and a pattern of behavior that will not be instantly correctable. He has gotten incrementally better but... seriously. How hard is it to take the bowl, which served as a vessel of food unto your stomach, back to the kitchen?

What really irks me is that he has a tendency to just take things that are not his to use as he sees fit, which usually means until he ruins them. I have lost DVDs, games, CDs, and more to him. I did not give them to him, or even let him borrow them. He just decided he wanted them, took them, and ruined them. I am missing several old games I am wondering about, and have a dark suspection they were either lent to a friend and never returned, or taken and sold without my permission to finance other games. Seriously. I had a copy of Final Fantasy IV back when it was Final Fantasy II. The original strange English translation. You know, red background, SNES cartridge. I am fairly sure it's gone forever, and the gamer in me weeps.

So this is one major reason why I am enjoying how he has moved out. His mess, I'm sure, is still there-- but it's not in *my* house. Oh wait, it is a little-- he left residual mess, which I'm finding as I took back the bathroom and am now prepping his room for painting. I think that's what gets to me the most about it, the fact that his mess encroaches on me and my efforts. He *said* he was all moved out, and then I come and find more piles of stuff crammed in the closet and in the drawers of the furniture left behind.

But is this not interesting? We all hide dark and dirty parts of ourselves away from others. Can you imagine someone going through the drawers and closets of your mind to pull out the awful messes found there? My judgmentality, my elitism, my selfishness, my hatred, my disrespect, my resentment... I can go on, though I will take shelter under these umbrella terms to spare you the awful moldy details. In some odd way, to see someone's mess lying out in plain view is almost refreshing. They are not hiding it away in drawers or closets. It's there to see, along with their struggle with it. The most terrible thing about mess to me is not the mess itself, but in the finding of it when I thought the area was clean. To find mess covered up, hidden, and kept from me in a purposeful manner is the worst. ...Though, that is what we all instinctively do with our messes, is that not so? Hide it so no one can see how messy we are.