• Jacob Maxwell

Winning's Messy


8:12. Eyes open. Hop up, don't think about the minutes lost to snooze. I haven't the time for a shower, but I'll make time to get my fit right.

8:27. My '03 Toyota complains with an unusual reverberation as I practically two-wheel into inner-zone parking I haven't paid for.

8:29. I'm running when I reach the room. Eyes meet with a friendly face before plonking my late ass down for the genetics midterm.

9:07. My car has a -ing flat tire.

I used to hate being messy. Every spill, delay, and misstep made me kick myself. Choosing veterinary medicine as a career path often reinforced this rigid pursuit of perfection. After starting an athletics group without any training certification, one might think I had relaxed my outlook. Not so. I've often still found myself scanning my efforts and successes with Telos for their tiniest flaws.


9:14. The purple die reminded me of silk in a breeze as it flowed out of the sample well across the reading window of the antigen test. A couple particles seemed to linger at the test line. Then a couple more. Then a bunch more. Good thing I studied all day yesterday to miss my viva voce.

I still hate my mess, but now and again weeks like this one deliver such an overwhelming dose of chaos that I'm inclined to embrace it. I feel better when I do. Despite every spill, delay, and misstep, I'm winning in school, I'm manifesting visions, and I'm laughing most of the time. But maybe it's not despite. I could've skipped my test - my car wouldn't have a flat tire. I didn't have to start Telos, let alone be self critical about it. You too could stay in, tap out, and back up - you surely won't fail. You won't win either.

If you're making a mess, keep it up. As far as I can tell so far, living is like being in that room of filled glasses in Adele's music video. If there isn't water on the ground, you haven't moved. Keep spilling. Fail. Win.

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