For as long as I can remember, my life has been shrouded in a rather overwhelming cloud of chaos.
I've never once been early. Literally. Twins are renowned for being premature, but not my sister and I. We were on time, and haven't been since.
I vividly remember the first time I was given a project in primary school - one that required organisation, time management, a basic sense of how to solve problems, etc. It was a diorama (quick question: why), and I chose to recreate the Jenolan Caves. What I handed in was
essentially literally a box with precariously secured cellophane, paint that was still wet and some kind of dough made by my Nan (??) that had started to smell. I remember the shame as the teacher looked at me like: am I ethically required to spend my time marking this piece of shit?
You see, I had left the entire project until the last minute. I can vividly recall my sense of discomfort watching ER the night before, knowing that my potential as a professional diorama maker was disappearing by the second.
The problem is, my mind works like this: I'm given a task. I get quite excited about the task. The Jenolan Caves?! I'll put water in a box. I'll create limestone out of paper mache. I'll somehow learn how electricity works and make the whole thing light up. It'll be stunning. I'll win awards.