It's quickly approaching midnight. I still need to read my scriptures and get ready for bed. But something in me is screaming, "Write you fool! Write!" Unfortunately, this pesky voice isn't considerate enough to tell me what to write about. All I have going for me at this point is desire.
The only thing I found useful from my physical science class at BYU was learning of the concept of Occam's Razor which, briefly, is a law of succintness stating that if something can be said or communicated in a simpler way it should be done. I think the prinicple is marvelous and I have some OCD tendencies which necessitate me applying it by keeping things clean and generally clutter free.
For example, today I pulled everything off my desk, unplugged all cables attached to my computer and piled everything into the living room. I dusted, then began reassembling everything, trying to find ways to make the appearance of my little workspace cleaner and less busy. I even went so far as to remove my second monitor (it's always bugged me that it didn't match my main display). Honestly there wasn't a lot that changed, except now I have a lot of the cords and cables tucked away behind the desk that were previously bulging out behind the computer.
Doing this wasn't really an option. It had been bugging me for a few days and needed to be done. Other things to which I apply Occam's Razor/feed my OCD tendencies:
The desktop on my computer. I know people who keep dozens of files and folders on their desktops. Right now I have five icons on my desktop, and two of them are my iPod and a CD.
My car. My car, Petie, is very clean (inside at least). I have a pair of sunglasses and my gym pass in the little space under my stereo. There's a sunshade that I tuck behind the passenger's seat when I'm driving and that's about all. I don't have anything in the door panels and there's nothing on my dashboard, no trash under the seats. And that's the way I like it.
What does this mean? First of all, I could go insane when we have kids. Second, it's no wonder I want an iMac so much. Third, I probably come off as a neat-freak psycho who will have some kind of breakdown if he finds lint on the carpet. Believe me when I say, it's really not that bad.
OK. I've started yawning and the voice telling me to write is starting to sound more and more distant. It's time for bed.
