Don't look at this Coat rack

My whole life I've wished I could be organized. Have you ever seen a beg board in a workshop that has all the lines drawn around the tools and everything has its place? That is the dream and my nightmare. I cannot imagine anything better than being able to focus on one thing long enough that everything has its place. It's a nightmare because It will never happen.

My music playing station in our small studio apartment is the exact opposite of a beautiful peg board or a drawer with cut out inserts for organization. Everything still has its place. The motorcycle helmet I bought from the man in roy who also sold me my sewing machine holds my hat stack. The space between the coat rack and my tool chest fits my work bag perfectly. The one wheel doesn't move anymore because I stopped riding it when I got a flat tire and need to relearn how it works. I really actually want to sell it.

This is jumbled mess but it's my jumbled mess. I know where I put everything and that realization made it start working for me. I love the organizational idea that everything has a place but I accidentally also bought the idea that the place needed to be perfect. Kermit goes on the ladder, that's his place. My revised system is that the place where things are is theirs. It doesn't really work but It will once I have had a conversation with all the stuff I own. I'll ask them where they want to go and hopefully they know.

The speaker on the cat scratching post has fallen off too many times. It hasn't broken and the distance between the two is great for stereo separation. My music listening station did not exist before I put the speakers on either side of the coat rack. That simple change made this into something else. Creating this dedicated space within my usual computer nook has changed the way I listen to music at home. It was important that there was no screen between the speakers.

This dedication is closer to the religious sense of the word. This is simply a coat rack and an ottoman that doesn't fit in front of our couch anymore. I am generally under the impression that I need to have a perfect setup. I fantasize about what I need to buy and change within a space to dedicate it to a purpose. I learned in this case that deciding it was my dedicated music listening spot transformed it. My music sounds better here than anywhere in the apartment.

I had always imagined that I would need a room in my house to have this kind of dedicated space. I'm sure it would be fantastic to one day have a whole music room in my mansion. The thing is that I don't need that. My weird computer nook/storage space/sewing room can also be my dedicated music room. It's all just a matter of which way I sit and where I position my brain. This kind of multifunctional space will always look crazy and always be me.

It's going to look messy until I'm rich enough to design my own space. It's going to look messy until I clean it up. It's clean but it still look messy. Part of embracing my brain and not fighting against my nature is accepting that the first look doesn't matter. A space can look beautiful and messy or really it is a requirement because of my nature. Examining anything can breathe beauty into it. If I think a space has to look clean in order to be used I will leave it a mess and never use it. It never gets clean and It never gets used.

I am learning to love the way I am. That unfortunately involves accepting that I am messy. I never want to be dirty but that happens sometimes. Cables and loose cords bother me and get under my wheels. Asking for more flat surfaces is like asking for more lanes on the highway it never fixes the problem. Having nail files where I use my fingers will keep me focused for longer. Those are all weird things I have learned about myself and understanding them helps me live a dedicated life.

I really don't know how the keyboards ended up on the shoe rack. I should move them. Oh no, this is way too messy to be so romantic about.