My Mess

My desk is a mess of all the things I thought I was going to need someday. I do need them.

Do I need them?

I need them.

The books and teacher's guides for the 4 grades of English I teach. Two sets of Jenga blocks with English words (one is 5th and one is 3rd grade appropriate) for when they get too tired to learn. My coffee thermos. Don't even get me started about that one. Need. Notebooks.

I have so many notebooks, one for each of the things I am trying to be.

A poet.
A musician.
A teacher.
A Writer.
A prophet or a saint (I'm not really sure which anymore).
An artist.

Can I be all those things, or is there just too much clutter on my desk? I'll never know until I start to clean it off, and someday I might look back at my sparkling clean workspace, no pressure but to sit on it and think...

Wasn't there once...

... something?

Of course, that's a silly thing to think, for there to be something. Not when desks can be clean, and people can go home not wondering with all their whats and wasn't theres.

Maybe I should leave it for another day.