I’m always writing about discipline. The discipline to be organized. To be productive and get things done. The discipline to be a writer. The discipline to make the most of your time and your space. Even if you haven’t seen me write about it before – trust me, I have. If you’re my friend, you’ve heard me talk about it. You’ve heard me lament the lack of discipline people have and the dedication so many folks have to procrastination. I’ve groaned in almost physical pain over people proudly displaying their messy rooms on social media and bragging about how they thrive in chaos and love the clutter around them. I’ve bitched, whined moaned and complained about how being an organized person, a planner and forward thinker, a budgeter and a person aware of their own limitations makes you ‘boring’ and a ‘stick in the mud.’
You’d be surprised how often I get that reaction. “Oh, Alan doesn’t want to spend money on something fun again! Lame.” Or “Dude, you can mess up your schedule/budget/plans/ignore things you need to get done just this once!”
There are a lot more, trust me. I’ve usually just sigh and apologize for being boring. Lame. Etc. And then move on with my life. Other people come to me, almost pleading, asking me for tips on how to be organized, keep track of things, get their space clean – and they love to tell me how every suggestion I have won’t work, because they don’t have time. Later, they brag to me about binge-watching an entire season of crappy TV in a single sitting over a weekend. Or tell me I’m messing with their ‘system.’ Or how my advice of ‘at a certain point, there’s nothing I can tell you except to just get up and do it.” Start in a corner. A room. Fuck, just clean off one piece of furniture – get one bit of clear space and dedicate yourself to keeping it clear. Trust me, the ripple effect can work if you’re motivated.
Still. I am a hypocrite, because I’m fat.