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I considered taking a picture of my scheduling madness, but I realized any physical evidence of its existence would only be able to be used against me in an insanity trial. The white board with its mint green scrawls, hand-written lists of daily tasks, and most shameful, the OCD Post-It Tree- 12 sticky notes outlining my life for the next 10 days. I’ve never been very good at being organized. If I met elementary school me now, I’d give her a hug and a planner and explain to her why waiting until the morning of a presentation to tell mom you need to be dressed like Mother Theresa for the day is a bad idea (yes, that really did happen. Ten minutes, one off-white bed sheet, and spool of blue ribbon later, I was sent off to school only to get stabbed by the sewing pins my mother had hastily jabbed into the fabric). Today, I’d have sewn up a habit two weeks in advance, rocking a cross blessed by the Pope.

As my schedule has become more crammed with classes, work, and people, working everything (and everyone) in with time constraints has become a sort of hobby. It’s the daily drudge- getting up early for work, spending time in classes, doing homework and other the sort of inflexible activities that need to be worked into my daily life, plus all the things that I want to fall into place- the gym, phone calls home, late night chats with friends, movie nights with the roommate, dinners out with friends- the things that simply make me happy.

For the next week and a half, I have every moment scheduled, at least loosely, with the places I need to be and the people I need to see.

Looking at the neatly organized least, and crossing off each task as it’s been accomplished makes me wonder one thing… What kind of OCD freak have I become?

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