Chaos Theory and My Bedroom

Sometimes, my room gets so out of control that I simply cannot even think of cleaning it.

I'm talking everything I've ever worn in my life thrown on the floor, books and papers stacked on every available surface, guitar on the half of my bed I don't sleep on, and shoes: mismatched, single, and lonely scattered like debris throughout the wreckage.

In moments like these, when I've furrowed two little holes out of the piles in which to place my feet, I survey my room and feel only panic. It's almost too messy for me even to begin to fathom how it could ever be clean. Or how it ever was.

When my room gets this bad, it usually takes me a few days to work up the courage to clean it. In all seriousness, it does. I have to make myself a little game plan in my head. It always starts with making the bed. There is something about a made bed that immediately restores a bit of calm in a messy room. An island of peace amidst an ocean of chaos.

Then, I can simply start putting things on the bed from the floor. Sorting through the piles on the bed. Filling a basket with dirty clothes, -- "Oh, that's where all my socks went."-- Hanging up the thirteen jackets I tried on and threw off to the side. Reuniting separated shoes and arranging them in my closet. Putting books back on the bookshelf. On and on and on.

I have also begun to notice that there is a direct correlation between the state of my room and the state of me.

My room is a microcosm of my life.

The first time I realized this, I was surprised. It had never even occurred to me. But it is so true, it's almost comical. Crack open my door--if possible-- and you will be given an extremely accurate picture of how I am currently. 

Lately, my room has been absolutely terrifying.

As has my life.

That is not to say that recently any large and traumatic experience has shaken me to the very core. In many ways, my life has been going much the same as it always has. Stable family, stable job, great friends (albeit many far away at this time), and a somewhat even keel (somewhat).

This is to say that lately, I've begun to realize a lot of things about myself that I never knew. Or if I did know, I didn't want to confront. Or, having begun to confront them, I'd felt overwhelmed and walked away. Or, having confronted them, I failed in my convictions to change.

And it all came to a head in the past two weeks. I think this is the fate common to many post-college uncertain twenty-somethings. I graduated college and everything changed. I moved back home, my friends and roommates moved back home or away (either way, not in the same town/house/room as me any longer), I struggled to figure out a job, went through a breakup, and ultimately found myself a bit lost and lonely in a town I'd grown up in. In my old bedroom. Almost like I'd never left and had those four years of huge life changes. Almost.

And because of all of the tumult and confusion, things began to trickle ever slowly into the pool of desperation. Not because everything was so bad. But just because it was time to figure out who I was and what I was doing and who I want to be and what I want to be doing. And because a lot of things that were easy to ignore about myself became glaringly obvious in the harsh light of-- I'm lonely and people seem to find me easy to abandon...why?--I began to finally see myself honestly.

When desperation strikes, it doesn't strike like a bolt of lightning. It's more like water behind a dam, slowly getting more and more full until one day the dam breaks. And though it wasn't totally unpredictable, it's still surprising and unsettling.

I've realized these things lately.

1. I am far more self-centered than I realized. It's all about me. All the time. I talk about myself (hey look... blogging), think about myself, and act solely on my behalf.
2. I am far more insecure than I thought I was. Due to the dissolution of my relationship, the uncertainty that comes with graduating college, and the body image issues I've never quite evaded, my insecurities have reared their ugly head more lately than usual.
3. I'm both my own worst enemy and my own best excuse-maker. I'm good at some things, but I don't think so. I think I'm pretty much worthless as a human being in some respects, and that's dumb. People don't want to be around an incessantly self-deprecating Eeyore. On the other hand, I have a million and one excuses for my vices, foibles, and bad habits. Mostly my excuses come from blaming how others have treated me for how I am now, instead of admitting that I am in control of how I react to things.

Anyway, just as I began the process of cleaning my room a few days ago, I've begun the process of "cleaning" my life. A few recent situations put all of these things in great perspective, so I have started in earnest down the road of Figuring It All Out.
I realize this is not a thing. At least not the All of Figuring It All Out. Because no matter what, there are going to be things going wrong and out of control.

But I'm going to make those steps towards being more unselfish, less self-focused, and more realistic about who I am and what I can and can't do. That's gotta count for something, right?

Chaos theory: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future.

Who I am choosing to be right now will in many regards determine who I am in the future. But who I am kind of sort of (not fully satisfied with) right now does not necessarily determine who I have to be. Those approximations and small changes will do a lot to change that outcome.

Starting with my room, and working outward.

That Hipster Sub

I'm not one unaccustomed to people staring at me. Since I was in middle school, I've had a somewhat unconventional sense of style, and my hair is usually huge in some form or another (at one time it was short and circular, now it's long and curly). I'm almost six feet tall, and I am not a naturally slender person. Not overweight, but never, ever small.

It used to bother me, when I would go somewhere and people were overt about giving me a second glance or looking just a few seconds longer than "normal". At that point in my life, I was worried about why they felt the need to keep looking--Am I too fat? Too weirdly dressed? Is it my hair? Is it my height? What is it? Why am I that interesting? I had quite a bit of fear of taking my uniqueness just a bit too far... I worried about what people thought of me fairly constantly, and it wasn't until a few years ago that I gained as much self-assurance as I have now (which still isn't as intact as I like to think it is). At this point, I usually just return the eye contact and take it in stride. I'd rather border on freakish than be nondescript.

This past summer, I worked at a daycare. Very small kids are awesome, because they really don't notice if you're different. Sure, they notice everything, but not the way adults do. They didn't stare at me any more than they stared at any of their teachers. This is the beauty of a child; they see you and accept you as you are. They might ask you why some things about you look a certain way, but they aren't asking in a negative or accusatory or judgmental manner. They're just asking. So I got used to being "normal".

On top of that, my friends know me well enough at this point that they don't give my weirdness a second glance, especially because it is majorly toned down since middle school and high school. At that point, I was whirlwind of spiky short hair (kind of a punk afro), argyle socks, camouflage, neon colors, and floor length skirts. Even people who don't know me generally see me as an adult (a fact I'm not sure I have fully endorsed), and I think that now I dress just unconventionally enough to fall in the hipster category without falling into the holy-cow-look-at-that-girl's-outfit category.

This fall, I began substitute teaching for elementary, middle, and high school students around my town. It has been an interesting experience. I'd almost forgotten I'm not "normal" until I started this job. First of all, I just graduated from college. I'm only 22, so I am one of the youngest subs in the system. The students are always taken aback when they see me-- I could be friends with some of the seniors in a different time and place. Also, according to almost every class I've subbed for, I don't look like a teacher.

We all remember our subs-- crotchety old ladies who taught once upon a time, but that was in the seventies, and they have long since retired. They reemerge in public schools that move much too quickly for them, grumpy about kids who talk, kids who have phones, kids who wear ripped jeans--kids in general.

So as I stand in front of them-- tall, big hair, unconventional clothes, nose ring, eyeliner, and just so young, they're confused. I always feel a little uncomfortable for a few seconds, and always say something like, "So, as you can see, I'm not your teacher..." which is usually met with giggles and a few comments like, "Well that's for sure." After that ice breaks, I'm fine. I get less worried about whether or not they'll take me seriously and more interested in getting to know them as students. And students of every age are fairly open in their assessments of me as well. A few things I've heard so far:

-Wait... you are our sub?

-How old are you? You look like a 16-year-old. (told to me by a seventh grader)

-Can you sub here again? (Before I even said a word to the class)

-I've never had a sub who looks like you.

-You look like that girl who sings "Royals". (Lorde)

And it's funny, because I know that 90% of the time, they like me without knowing me at all. After all, if you could pick between a young "hipster" sub or an old lady with her knitting needles poking out of her bag, who would you pick? Who would you have picked in high school? I know that there are plenty of other subs who are also not ancient and grumpy, but that is the stereotype and I certainly don't fit that.

Looking like someone you would meet thrifting (which, let's be honest, is definitely somewhere you could meet me) and not like a typical teacher has both drawbacks and advantages. Yes, students naturally feel a little more inclined to think I'm cool, and they don't want me to have to tell them to stop messing around. So in that way, I inadvertently demand respect. Demand doesn't seem like the right word. Too assertive. I just sort of am young and interesting, so they want to listen a little more.

However, that whole young thing is a disadvantage as well. Being a 22-year-old authority figure for 18-year-old seniors is a little weird. A few of my friends are barely older than that. I certainly don't feel any older than I felt when I was 18. I remember being a senior, feeling old for high school but young for Life After High School, which was both terrifying and exhilarating to think about. I still feel that tension as a 22-year-old. For all intents and purposes, I am young.

Most people are still older than me, and I have that undeniable feeling of having pretty much my whole life ahead of me. So do I feel like I can stand at the front of the room and tell a bunch of legal adults to read a story by Poe and answer a prompt? Some days. Some days, it's obvious to them and to me that they're not going to listen and I can't make them.

But even with days where I feel like I did almost nothing helpful, I like it. It's really kind of a cool experience, for the most part. I get to go into a school (most of the time a school I have heard of but never seen from the inside) and meet some students. I get to see the layout of the building, the culture of the school, and then leave. As someone who wrapped up student teaching in May, I love the distinct and beautiful aspect of subbing that I never have to make lesson plans. I've subbed every age level, and I've begun to figure out what ages I really like to work with. I always love that dreaded wasteland of middle school. But that's another post for another day.

Today, I just thought I would give insight into what it's like to be That Hipster Sub.