Messy Thursday

I’ve been a faithful magazine subscriber over my almost 19 years of life.  (*pauses time to reflect on turning 19 in 10 days*) I used to devour the Highlights for Kids magazines when I was younger.  As I got older, the subscription changed to American Girl magazine.  Then, when I joined the U.S. Figure Skating Association as a skater, it came with a subscription to Skating magazine.  The main purpose for those magazines was to get the scoop on how my favorite skaters had done in their recent competitions.  I cut out all the pictures of Michelle Kwan, Kimmie Meissner, Evan Lysacek, Tanith Belbin, Sasha Cohen, and their contemporaries to put on my notebooks and folders in middle school.

Then, for a short tint, I got Entertainment Weekly as part of the My Coke Rewards program.  At the same time, my piano teacher had gotten my sister and me a subscription to Smithsonian for a Christmas present one year and had kept renewing it for us.  Needless to say, Entertainment Weekly didn’t last long compared to Smithsonian.  Half of the articles in there went over my head, but what I understood was some of the most interesting reading I’ve done.

My magazine subscription history isn’t really the point of this post though. I was just thinking this morning about how much I love quizzes.  No, not academic quizzes.  I don’t mind those too much, but I’m talking about the ones with the titles like “Which Disney Princess Are You?” or “What Type of Friend Are You?” or “How Do You Cope With Stress?”

And I think I know why I love them so much.  Even if they’re wrong, they offer answers in as little time as I take to tally up my score.  And they seem like legitimate answers because I did answer a whole bunch of questions and add up all of my points and figure out which of the possibilities I fit.  They’re a no-stress, no-overanalyzing way to learn about yourself and maybe discover how you should be.  I mean, if I’ve been living like Cinderella is my Disney princess, but it’s really Belle, then my whole world is going to look different.

I love instant answers.  I would love instant food, too, if it actually had real ingredients in it.  But unfortunately, most instant food is full of nastiness.  I guess I don’t mind instant oatmeal, though.

Instant is nice.  It’s rarely messy, and it’s quick.

But there’s a place for messy.  It’s probably not necessary for me to mull over if I’m Belle or Cinderella for too long, but messy has a place. Just like I sometimes need to have muffins and papers about study abroad and a cup of coffee and textbooks and a calculator all over my desk in order to figure out what I should write my philosophy paper about.  Messy is good sometimes.

Just a thought for Thursday.

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