the measure of success. this gauge isnt the same for everyone. i dont think that assuming money is a huge barometer for many is a stretch. i feel the same about that house with the white picket fence. spouse, kids, a fucking dog. stupid two car garage.
so what is success to me? im rabidly concerned with systems. from tiny things like long sleeved shirts on the left of the closet and short on the right to complex things like... well, you dont even want to know. the basis of a systematic life is that you start everything with a clean slate. how can you possibly move on to a second project when the remnants of the first are still scattered over the landscape? you just cant. this agenda lends its self quite well to a very organized and clean life and living space. yeah, im a little nutso over dust and dirt and clutter and things not having a place. so what is success.... everything in its place. no matter how much money i make, or dont, no matter if i find the love of a lifetime or not.... when the bed is made, the dishes are done, and the grass is cut, life becomes easier to live. my happiness is strictly a result of rampant cleanliness.
my mom cleans houses for a living. i can only imagine that when she walks into someones house it isnt far from what i think of when i walk into someone elses concert. with that in mind, when mom comes to visit i stress out about every single piece of dust or dirt. every circle stain on every end table. my expectation is that she wears the worlds whitest glove on her observational skills.... and shes judging me.
tonight, mom came over. i freshened up the kitchen. thats it. i touched nothing else. living room, dining room, my bedroom. bathroom.... i ignored them. i made sure the dishes were in their places and took a clorox wipe or two to the stove. that was it. she walked in. i love hugging my mom. she walked through the apartment and said "everything looks so wonderful and clean".
ladies and gentlemen..... i am the definition of success.