honeycomb.jpgAs I near my 24th birthday I find myself becoming more and more set in my ways. It is a subtle process, easing into my old man pants.

It isn’t really a surprise though. My retrospectacles help me see that I started down this route when I was still quite little. The day I first separated all of my Legos by color or arranged my crayons into spectral alignment was most likely the first sign. Then I would hoard things, like aluminum foil and walnuts in my tree house.

I think it sounds not unlikely that when children frustrate at their parents regarding the ‘set and outdated ways’ of said parents, this is not much more than the original and juvenile rigidity of a youngster testing itself against the stolidness of the adult kind.

The process sped up considerably when I entered college. Mostly because I had a shitload more things of which to keep track. I guess I should explain my rigidity as something bordering on OC/​AR. Everything needs to be in its place and organized. Thankfully I’m just lazy enough that mess just bothers me instead of obsessing me. I hate when I’m not on time. I do not like unplanned hassles [car malfunctions, leaky bathtubs] because they mess with my ‘routine’ [which I put in quotes because I am extremely capable of spontaneous fun if nothing else needs done].

My computer is kept as streamlined and clutter free as possible [mostly because it is 6 and any clutter will kill its performance], I fold my shirts a certain way, have to wash dishes right after they are dirtied and I make my bed each morning. I wear my hair aggressively short. I guess I’m always trying to winnow the wheat from the chaff.

I wonder how my rigidity will look years from now. I wonder if life can be thought of as just a slow loss of mental and physical flexibility. That sounds bloody depressing.

These words sound groovy: rigor, apostasy.