My eight-year-old granddaughter astounded me this weekend--she's so organized and methodical. I do remember when she was in pre-school she was the only child who folded her blanket neatly after nap time. She couldn't stand that the furniture, etc., to the Dora playhouse she has long since outgrown was scattered around the playroom and asked for a bag to collect it all--alas, Dora herself is missing. Edie has an expanding file folder thing in which she has carefully labeled the various files with post-its--designs, ideas, sketches, etc. At her cousin's birthday, the Star Wars horns were scattered artfully on the cake table--she lined them up in two, evenly spaced, matching rows. Oh, to be so organized.
My file drawer by my desk is haphazard at best, surely not aphabetical. I generally know which part of the drawer something is in, but I sometimes have to look and look, going through it file by file. And right now I've lost a file I really need--last night in desperation I created a new file in order to get something off my desk.
The shoes in my closet are helter-skelter and sometimes I have to search for the matching shoe.The clothes in my closet are the same way, and I often go through garment by garment, pushing things aside, to find what I had my mind set on wearing that day. My book shelves are a mess and I search for hours for a book I know I have, frequently giving up.
And yet I consider myself an organized person, indeed almost compulsive. And I think those who worked with me did too. But Melinda always patiently explained to me that I am right-brained--therefore I am creative, but I cannot proofread worth a darn. I admit it's true--my mind doesn't dwell on details, and I sometimes leap before I look. I buy cars, houses, and dogs on impulse--but I listen to my instinct and never seem sorry. When Jordan and I used to spend Sunday afternoons at realtors' open houses, I'd tell her the right house would reach out and touch us. In one hugely expensive house we could nowhere near afford, she asked, "Is this touching you, Mom? It's touching me." Sometimes, a long while later, in retrospect, I look back and realize I'd have been better off if I'd done something differently. But life is too short for regrets.
And the junk in my attic? The kids will have to worry about that when they cart me out of here.
What about you? Right brained or left brained?
My file drawer by my desk is haphazard at best, surely not aphabetical. I generally know which part of the drawer something is in, but I sometimes have to look and look, going through it file by file. And right now I've lost a file I really need--last night in desperation I created a new file in order to get something off my desk.
The shoes in my closet are helter-skelter and sometimes I have to search for the matching shoe.The clothes in my closet are the same way, and I often go through garment by garment, pushing things aside, to find what I had my mind set on wearing that day. My book shelves are a mess and I search for hours for a book I know I have, frequently giving up.
And yet I consider myself an organized person, indeed almost compulsive. And I think those who worked with me did too. But Melinda always patiently explained to me that I am right-brained--therefore I am creative, but I cannot proofread worth a darn. I admit it's true--my mind doesn't dwell on details, and I sometimes leap before I look. I buy cars, houses, and dogs on impulse--but I listen to my instinct and never seem sorry. When Jordan and I used to spend Sunday afternoons at realtors' open houses, I'd tell her the right house would reach out and touch us. In one hugely expensive house we could nowhere near afford, she asked, "Is this touching you, Mom? It's touching me." Sometimes, a long while later, in retrospect, I look back and realize I'd have been better off if I'd done something differently. But life is too short for regrets.
And the junk in my attic? The kids will have to worry about that when they cart me out of here.
What about you? Right brained or left brained?
3 comments:
My right brain and my left brain stick their tongues out at each other.
My clothes are in order in my closet roygbiv by type; books on the shelf by period, type, region, genre; and I'm budgeted for the next 7 months. ...and you know how I cook.
I would have to say for me, it depends on the day. But when one is going, it does not talk to the other!
Oh yea... I have been called Ms. Hospital Corners before. Not sure THAT's a ringing endorsement, though.
I think probably most of us have a little of both but one dominates. for you, it's right brain--for me too.
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