Sybil

So deep down there is a little secret voice that knows the future and knows everything will eventually turn out perfectly when I grow up. It may sound odd but it's my own little fortune cookie that reminds me of exactly what I need to hear. I repeatedly hear the future voice saying things like, "you look stunning in a bathing suit when you take your perfect, bilingual, adopted children to the pool, or "you will eventually have enough money to go a European vacation" and most recently "you will have a job that you love, pays really well, and makes a difference and then you will look back and smile fondly of this challenging job you have now". This voice also knows the future about not so important events like "you will find curtains that you love sometime" and "my organized closet will be the envy of America" and most recently today that voice said to me, "when you are grown you will no longer throw your work clothes on the floor at the end of the day to collect cat hair. They will magically be thrown in the dirty clothes or hung back up for the second appearance". Then Sybil's voices left me and the brief state of sanity and I realized...oh my Lord I am grown and I will probably always throw my clothes in the floor. I look around and am totally shocked at what I saw. It is not like I do not have a habit of cleaning up, oh no I have the exact opposite habit. Down below me are my shoes from the last three days and they are all laying in the exact same location. The brown boots with major heals I wore on Sunday, obviously not to teach in because of the height, brown teacher loafers Monday and black flats from Tuesday. I look in the other direction and brown dress pants are in a certain place on the floor, under those pants are work out pants from the weekend, on my bed are the collection of sleep shirts and on my night stand are a growing collection of empty glasses that previously contained water. The optimistic voice reassuring me of my maturing future grows more and more distant. I begin to seriously worry that I have created this character as a defense mechanism to cope with stress to bring a sunnier future to my problems. Looking at the messy room that resembles the same messy room I prided myself in as an eight year old I decided I had some work to do. Suddenly having a clean room was the as vital as world peace. How was I to achieve greatness with pants in the floor? Only crazies who died way before their time were messy. They were never appreciated during their lifetime and died penniless. Sure, they are often commemorated on coins and calendars, but do they even know that? No. They just know that when they kicked the can people were going to search their apartment for their belongings and say thing such as, "such a brilliant mind, can you believe he lived in such filth? They all have a downfall, oh what could have been". The only justification will be if God is understanding and allows plastic surgery (with out pain, of course) in Heaven so when the others come they will not be able to recognize the messy genius and judge his (or her) disgusting residence.

Perhaps you could say this was a tad bit dramatic. Yeah, perhaps. I've never been consistently neat. It goes on spurts just like personality disorders on such hit tv shows as One Life to Live and of course my favorite, Sybil... but at least I can control them when company is coming over (fake and badly dress company pictured left). Okay, exhaustion has set in. For Natalie's News this has been, Natalie-Corinne.