Maybe I'm A Masochist.

I have always been someone who sticks it out on their own. In fact, at this point in life, people would probably say I enjoy the exquisite torture of putting myself under such intense pressure. Picture this: while others unwind with a glass of wine or a Netflix binge, I find solace in color-coding my bookshelves, organizing my closet by garment type, and maintaining an Excel spreadsheet to inventory every book I own. I recently shared this quirky habit with a co-worker, and the look on their face was a mix of awe and mild concern.

Why do I do this? Maybe I'm a masochist. Or perhaps it's my peculiar way of ensuring I always have something to do. I mean, who needs meditation when you can alphabetize your sock drawer? It's like love. When you love someone and the relationship ends, where does that love go? It doesn't just evaporate; it has to find a new home. So, if you have all this energy and motivation and you don't channel it into something, it has to go somewhere, right? Otherwise, you'd explode like a confetti-filled piñata at a particularly rowdy birthday party.

A while back, a friend in Oregon introduced me to a book called *Big Magic*. The premise is simple yet profound: if you have an idea and don't act on it, that idea will wander off to find someone else who will. Ideas are like hyperactive puppies, darting around until they find someone to play fetch with. It seemed like a whimsical concept at first, but the more I think about it, the more it rings true.

Imagine the universe is like a giant post-it note dispenser, and every post-it is an idea. If you don't grab one and do something with it, it just floats away to someone else who will. It's a bit like musical chairs, but with more existential dread. Now, every time I feel the urge to reorganize my spice rack or create a new filing system for my receipts, I wonder if maybe, just maybe, I'm catching one of those elusive post-it notes before it flutters away.

So, yes, maybe I am a masochist. Or maybe I'm just really, really good at keeping the universe's to-do list in check. Either way, my color-coded bookshelves and meticulously organized closet are proof that sometimes, a little self-inflicted chaos is exactly what you need to keep the magic (and the madness) alive.