True Confessions Friday:: My style is organized mess.

I try my best to be an organized—everything in its place and all that.  But I just don’t have enough space.  I share a two bedroom apartment with my best friend so my work area just so happens to be in my bedroom.  Space is at a minimum.  And, I confess, I’m a bit of a packrat.  When I was re-ordering my room recently, my roommate was strangely impressed at my ability to make storage space out of each and every nook and cranny available to me.  Yes, I’m just that kind of girl.

I know that I don’t NEED any more books or CDs, but I just love them oh-so-much!  Nothing quite beats the feeling of opening a new book and reading while listening to a new CD in the background.  Music and books and books and music—it’s a way of life.  My dad was a rock star (OK, not really, but he did try to tell people he was one of the Beach Boys) and both parents (especially Mom) are readers.  I can’t help it; it’s genetic.

Then there’s the whole, I-can-use-this-to-make-something-cool phenomenon that bounces around my brain.  I’m a fan of altered art (and photography), so I have to collect old magazines for collages, ribbon (I love ribbon!), paints, and other art tools so that I can craft masterpieces.  Did I mention I recently acquired a drafting table at a yard sale for a mere $5?  I painted that beauty a nice mossy green to produce a whole creative arts space in my room. Plus, I also loom knit, so I’ve got yarn, paints, and all kinds of supplies ready to pour out of my craft closet whenever I open the door.

Right now I’m sitting at my desk, which is strewn with soon-to-be-released CDs, post-it notes, random jewelry I took off when typing and never put away, recording stuff, and notes to myself about article ideas, upcoming book/album releases, and a bunch of other nonsensical stuff, like Tums, a tube of sunscreen, my pink Nintendo DS, and a dog biscuit.  Then there’s an array of stuff (as you can see from my pictures!)

I do envy those of you out there with a more organized work space, but this sort of mayhem and foolishness seems to work for me.  I just call it my very own organized mess—everything in its heap and all that.