To catalog

I love to catalog things. God it makes me so happy. There’s something about the undertaking of it; about a project that’s big, but that has a foreseeable end, an outcome that is desirable, a difference that is notable. A project that is all my own; for which I have to report to no one; for which I am totally capable, effective, and efficient; over which I have complete control. The control to be creative and yet work within very specific parameters, parameters I set, parameters I find joy in maintaining and applying. To make something messy organized; or something less organized, organized; or something organized, differently and thus newly and interestingly and sometimes inspiringly organized. A way to assert control in a world over which I feel otherwise powerless, a psychologist might say. So be it. It works for me. We all need our things.


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