wherein i purchase something of value.

the week i went without a computer changed a few things.  one of the more significant alterations was the way i keep track of life.  see, on my computer, i had something like twelve to twenty lists {current lists}.  it's how i kept track of homework, goals, and birthdays.  it's my system of housework, keeps me on track - where i need to be when i need to be there.  i do make physical lists, too.  my sticky-note obsession otherwise would cease to thrive.  the perpetual problem with these is that they almost always end up lost.  hopelessly so.  lost in my purse, my backpack, in a pile of binders and textbooks, on the kitchen table, in the kitchen trash bin.  when i lost my computer, i lost all my lists - the important ones that told me what i actually needed to be accomplishing in life.  the result was an almost absolute lack of homework {which was wonderful for about a week}.  nothing needed to be done, because there weren't any lists to tell me what to do.

i haven't been able to recreate the planner i kept for myself on the last computer.  it just seemed too much of a hassle - and something that wasn't necessary seeing as i didn't have anything that needed to be done anyway.  my lack of planner led to unfinished homework, which led to panic mode, which led to a purchase that i am sure proves my existence as a nerd.  yes, i bought a planner, but not just any planner.

as i walked into the byu bookstore saturday afternoon, i was on a mission to find the perfect planner.  something flexible: i'm an artist by nature, a doodler, and that requires an extreme amount of freedom in my planning.  yes, i'm a bit of an oxymoron.  i needed something that didn't proclaim procrastination.  i did not want to open up this little bit every hour to see the months of january, february, and march completely empty. i might have a bad habit, but that would just be too revealing.  i wanted space.  none of this "one inch square box" for every day.  no, no.  i demand space to breathe, to write, to doodle, and to make lists to my heart's content.

it turns out the only planner in the entire three level overly-priced facility that vaguely fit these criteria was the r.m. planner.

i was on a mission, but not that kind of mission.  i carried it around for a full half hour before convincing myself that my dire need out-weighed the level of nerdness i would reach by making the purchase.  i justified in every way putting it back.  but my obsessive-list-making self won the battle.  i bought the planner.

i thought i could cover my tracks by placing a large very cool sticker on the front.  cover up the too-large bold-face letters spelling out that i am a returned missionary who simply can't return to normal life without my pocket book planner.  but i was wrong.

saturday night, the musician {who deserves his own post in which i will fully explain the not-quite-fitting title} told me plainly i couldn't disguise that little book with just a band sticker.  at byu, things like that are just too well-known.  i laughed.

"wanna bet? one big ingrid michaelson sticker will do the trick!"

but i was wrong.  oh so absolutely wrong.

this morning in family finance, i sat next to my current internship partner.  as i looked over tomorrow's activities, she reached over and exclaimed {not quietly}, "i know that planner!!"

yes, yes, i am a nerd.  the twenty-one-year-old who has not served a mission carrying around a returned missionary planner - complete with sections for specific goal setting.  i'm still going to find stickers.  cool ones.  and until then, i'll keep the front page folded back for those who are slightly out of practice when it comes to detecting that unmistakable thick spiral binding.

my consolation: it made the musician laugh.  and i dearly love to hear people laugh.