An Exodus

Organized?

I have an intensive overview calendar I draw out every three weeks on white cardstock. This, along with with scraps of paper I use to write down class assignments and a notepad on my desk for regurgitating errands to complete. A printed calendar with important deadlines written in bold, black Sharpie hangs on my wall. A dry-erase calendar sits unmarked in the kitchen next to the sink, a rectangle for me to stare at while I wait for water to boil. Smaller sheets of dot-graph paper hold the impending dates for my senior seminar class; this I keep tacked to my studio wall and hardly glance at. I have a palm-sized black Moleskine for general thoughts and a suite of three Field Notes journals that organize my personal meetings, my finances and grocery list. A small John Deere flipbook denotes the immediate errands I must run on a particular day, and post-its litter my purse, my desk-drawer, my research books... Not to mention the obsessive calendaring I impose on Google Calendar. The alarm settings to remind oneself is an incredible feature.

It is all I can do to keep breathing. A studio visit with a professor revealed I must "keep my heart Chakra open," keep my posture from closing all my energy inside. And so I took the last two rolls of white butcher paper I had and cut sections out that were as large as me. I wrestled with them, using my entire body to fold and tuck and strangle and kick and tear. And then I tacked them onto a wall and decided it was An Exodus.