[Note from Frolic: We are so excited to have Sorcha Blacks from writing duo Sparrow Beckett guest post on the site today. Take it away Sorcha!]
I am the Handmaiden of Chaos.
There are a plethora of worlds in my head. A cacophony of people. My brain is so full important details often fall out of my ear and disappear into the ether.
I’m perpetually late. My house is a random assortment of junk. My desk is a haphazard pile of paperwork. My vehicle may be the love child of a tank and a dumpster.
Despite all this, I love watching organizing shows, and admire the type of mind that can produce such ordered tranquility. My houseful of artistic children watch the shows with me, fascinated by the alien civility of such living—beautiful and strange—like a museum. Like grandma’s house.
My own creativity comes from pandemonium. Messes in my mind converge, sparking against each other, giving life to worlds and characters who never would have existed if keeping order was my life’s work. I love my mental mess. I finger paint in it like a two-year-old, then stand back to admire the result. Sometimes the end product is complete crap, but sometimes there is something there to keep me entertained for weeks. Months. Years.
I can admire the artistry of a lovely, clean, well-decorated home the same way I can admire a sculpture, or a painting, or a symphony. Keeping a tidy house is an art form, and like any other talent it takes time and practice to master. Truthfully, it’s a talent I don’t share, and one I don’t choose to spend significant time on.
This year, I’ve decided to stop being ashamed of my chaos.
I’m an author and a reader—it’s not like anyone is coming over anyway.