I like to plan things,
I wish I could plan the whole world
Organize the whole world
Schedule the whole world
Neatly and nicely.
It isn't tat I don't like spontaneity
And it isn't that I honestly believe that such organization can be achieved
But it looks so nice on paper
The lists look so nice on paper
The calendars are so comforting
The charts are so artful
Not that anything goes right
That I write or I draw or I chart
Usually not a damn thing but bills and exams come through
The people change, disappear, cancel,
The family changes, gives up, stops,
The events end, cost too much, cost way too much
The calendar empties, taunts, becomes obsolete,
But the bills don't dwindle, don't die, but multiply
The bottle empties
Then I don't mind not planning
Or I plan with less rigor, less stringent in my ways
And in my planning, which is hoping in less ethereal terms, the optimism floods in and fills empty space
I am full with "Yes", "Definitely", "Soon", "I made it",
And the people return
The family picks up
The calendar comforts again
So I make another list and try to plan an end.
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