Messy



Mess. One of my former co-worker's favorite font was called "a D#$@ mess." I think she liked it cause she was so pure and it was the only time she could swear. But yes, messes. A couple of months ago, or so, or a month, or whatever you know how it goes, a friend gave me a magazine she thought I'd love. And I do love it. Or I should. It's a celebration of life... families... dads who love their kids... moms who sacrifice.. beautiful stories, pictures, poems, etc, around these sacred relationships. But I found myself depressed and not wanting to read it. These stories featured people with imperfections that didn't get resolved.  Some stories celebrated the mess, the laundry that never got done. It was pictures of normal people. Skinny. Fat. Beautiful. Ordinary. Kinda not so pretty.  They made too much of a deal out of things that were normal. Messy.  Thing is, I don't like messes. I always want out. Fix it, come clean, purge, whatever, just... don't stay that way. But I am surrounded by them, inside and out. The magazine bugs me because the people who are far from hollywood slim aren't apologizing and saying, "Hey, I'm losing weight," and the people who are ordinary don't hide, and the lady who doesn't get her laundry done, well, she writes an article about it.

I don't want to be messy. I know some messy people. It's messy. Getting a family of my own has caused quite a few messes. Physical, mental, spiritual, emotional...  I am in the process of vetting our possessions. If we won't miss it, get rid of it. Thanks. I've never used the word "vetting" but I think I might have used it right.  We have a couch on Craigslist. Yeah, couches come in sets with love seats, but our boys need more room, so get rid of the love seat. Yeah, the bed usually has a headboard, but ours is too big.. get rid of it. The mini dressers too. The kids can't ride 2 bikes at once, so why do we have all these wheels around. Send em away (the bikes not the kids!!). Old clothes. Letters. Dishes. Books. Toys. Mess be gone.

But what about me. I can't stop the mess. The Bible says "from glory to glory" ... but right now I say "from mess to mess..."  and not only mine, there are ones I can't clean up. They impact me, involve me, move me, break me.. I don't want to admit my laundry has beaten me or that I can't figure out a way to keep my neighbor's dog from pooping on my lawn. I will not write an article and celebrate my random stray articles plus garbage taken over car. I will clean it. I will beat it.. I will be exhausted  and I will escape by watching cooking shows later than I should (especially "Restaurant Impossible"), be awoken mid sleep by a child's nightmare, and then bright and early by a demanding "Mamaaaaa!" and then be more exhausted and less capable to tackle any mess of any means. Then what?

It's just real. Surely garbage and messes shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall attempt to clean them up rather than ignore them, but I shall not celebrate them.  I don't know. I'm torn. They say the first step toward change is admitting you have a problem. But admitting as much is on a path polar opposite to allowing the thing to overcome you. When I got married someone told me the fastest way to a cleaner house was to lower my standards. I was offended then. I don't know if I have lowered my standards or just become sad. It sure is a lot harder than it looks.

And in the middle of it all, my 1 year old does her first happy dance and hums as she walks away to play. My 5 year old writes a song about wanting to go over for a visit and have cereal with his friend, and my 6 year old reaches in to a prize basket and picks out a lady bug because, as he says, "when I saw it, I thought.. hmm, I wonder what this bug can do??" Kind of an odd prize for a boy to pick because there was a super hero note book available. Turns out the ladybug spins and even flips in a summersault.. kinda like a breakdancing ladybug... And my husband continues to take out the compost without complaining and spontaneously does the dishes while I watched sports highlights one night(it's almost March madness people).

It's a mess,
isn't it.

yet artists
stop
inspired
and generate
a creation
from the angle of the miss
decomposed
broken
chaos
barely recognizable edition
of it's origin


what are we
in this

artists?
critics?

how to stay afloat
when the ideal isn't
and what was hoped
flopped
and what we got
was
too real

people aren't perfect, you know.





Comments

matt said…
you're not the only one
http://www.tonalityguide.com/tkprescribed.php
6:55 AM
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