the little things

I'm quite the neurotic when it comes to a lot of things, especially the minor, nitty-gritty details. You could say I tend to appreciate the little things in life in a very big way. In fact, this quibble of mine is a little too much sometimes. It preoccupies the mind a little too much; takes a little too much of my time; I indulge in it a little too much; a little too much of something I don't need. Not just a little bit of an obsessive/compulsive streak runs through me, probably.

One little thing leads to another, like the tiny neurons connecting in every direction all at once, until the brain stalls trying to process this sensory overload and forces the visual cortex to gloss over everything as a defense mechanism or the person risks being immersed in an enraptured stupor every single moment of its waking life.

So in a way, without warning or any conscious effort on my part, I am automatically disconnected from my surroundings. Much like the way your computer stubbornly refuses to allow you access to the Internet when it somehow feels obligated. On these rare occasions, there's little choice except for introspection. A little solitude doesn't hurt, but the problem here is there's just too little of it.

Little things like a fingerprint on the outside of a drinking glass, or a barely-noticeable stain on a piece of clothing, a blemish on the skin, a crease on the cover of a book borrowed from the library, a greasy smudge on a page of one of my comic books, a typographical error on a piece of manuscript, CDs stacked in a messy pile, a waterline mark on the wall, the discolored seats in a bus, a scratch on the face of my watch, a carpet rolled up improperly, a book that won't close completely anymore because it's been opened too wide and too many times, a magazine with dog-eared pages, a speck of dirt on the tiled floor, a question on last week's test that I didn't know the answer to, a coffee mug stain on the study table, books stacked together that are disproportionate in size -- these things bother me to no end. They drive me nuts!

But I also enjoy indulging in the little things. The harmless little things that no one hardly ever notices. Like arranging pillows on the floor when my little sister sleeps on the couch, in case she tosses around too much. Like keeping the pages of the newspaper crisp and in line, and rearranging back the sections in the correct order for my Dad because he likes it that way. Like keeping orange-flavored soda stocked in the fridge because it's my Mom's favorite drink. Like carefully taking off my sister's glasses and putting them on the bedside table when she falls asleep with them on. Like holding onto Grandma's hand longer than you usually do. Like kissing your lover's cheek while she's sleeping so you don't wake her up. Like sharing a pint of Ben & Jerry's with the ones who need it most.

So there's a flip-side (like most things do) in keeping attention to every detail. It's an unhealthy obsession that can consume your every thought; where everything you see has to be arranged a certain way or it becomes displeasing; where nothing is ever satisfying to your eyes. But when you think about it, the good it does -- you can almost imagine the quiet smile on everyone's lips without knowing why it's there -- it's well worth it.

PLAYLIST

Southern Girl -- Incubus

More Life In A Tramp's Vest -- Stereophonics

Born Too Slow -- Crystal Method

Tiny Dancer -- Ben Folds

Dead Leaves And The Dirty Ground -- The White Stripes