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August 21, 2006

I can see clearly now


"Organizing is the act of rearranging elements following one or more rules. It can also be seeing as the opposite of messing up.

Anything is commonly considered organized when it looks like everything has a correct order of placement. But it's only ultimately organized if any element has no difference on time taken to find it. In that sense, organizing can also be defined as the act to place different objects in sequential arrangement for better searching."

So, just follow one or more rules and your objects will be organized? Well, I organize for the benefits I can get out of it. I look at my son's bedroom and consider the rule set he employed in organizing it (or disorganizing it). "When you're done with it, place it where it will take the least amount of effort to set down". A rule set was followed, but the resultant organization is devoid of benefit.

As an example, my son wanted to watch a video. There was a massive pile of them on the floor. He asked me if I knew where a certain movie was. I replied "no, I don't have the x-ray vision to see beyond the top layer on the pile. Now, if you would discipline yourself to return movies to the organizer on the closet door, then I could see every title at a glance, and rapidly find the one you want".

That's why I like definition 2 above. Beneficial organization structures the elements so that all can be seen equally readily, and one element doesn't block the other from view. That's why the video rack works so well. Not only does it save on space, but it saves on time each time I go to watch a movie.

Space Stout, Guest Writer
Copyright, Mrs. A's Corporation 2006



August 14, 2006

What's in organizing?

I sat in a Radio Control (RC) air park on the shores of Lake Benbrook, Texas. A gentle breeze wrestled the remaining leaves on a late fall day. The sun's light was fragmented into a million pieces by the rippling waters. Then the waves picked up the pieces and tossed them ashore. I was startled out of my trance by the glint of light from an airplane wing. A man rolled out a beautiful blue biplane. It must have had a 3-foot wingspan and stood two feet high. I watched the man and his assistant prepare the plane for flight. It was obvious that this was to be the maiden flight of the craft. I contemplated the months and maybe years of labored love that must have gone into its construction. Various materials, all cut, shaped, and organized after the laws of flight. Given the fondness perpetuating a smile on the builder's face, I was surprised to see the assistant take the controls. It dawned on me that the builder was a neophyte, and relegated the first flight duties to his assistant who was very experienced in flying RC planes. I watched in awe as the bi-winged blue thing was put thru its paces. The plane entered a steep dive, but never pulled up. The pilot contorted his face and the controls every which way. The impact left a hole about as big as the mouth of the builder, and pieces of wood shot up so high that, well, I believe some still hang over Lake Benbrook to this day. The pilot was speechless, and just handed the controls and a severely guilty grin back to the builder. I became pensive. All the parts were still there. Why couldn't the plane fly any longer? It had something to do with organization. What was once organized according to the laws of flight, was now disorganized, or organized according to the laws of firewood.

Think about it. Your goals in life won't fly without organizing them according to their governing laws.

Space Stout, Guest Writer
Copyright, Mrs. A's Corporation 2006

August 04, 2006

Kickoff Our New Blog With Some Fun

Once there was a baby hummingbird whose parents demised.
He eventually fell to the forest floor and was raised by the
woodland creatures. A naturalist happened by and observed
this most unusual scene; a hummingbird hopping, strutting,
but never flapping. He picked up the avian anomaly, stating
in gentle words "Thou art a hummingbird, fly". The wee bird
hopped to the ground, and resumed feeding. The naturalist
knew what to do. Before dawn the next morning, he placed
the bird into a sack and climbed the highest object around,
which happened to be a cabin roof. He extracted the bird.
The sun started to crest over the peaks. Emerald iridescence
flashed from his wings as the bird stretched them to their
full 3-inch span. A strange impulse coursed his muscles. The
naturalist seized the moment to encourage instinct; "Thou
art a hummingbird, fly", he said with increasing intensity and
frequency. The bird could no longer resist the frenzy of nature
and naturalist, and with a primordial peep, exploded into
flight. The naturalist flew vicariously, arms extended, mi-
micking every turn of the beaked one's flight. The cold
morning gave way to the warmth he felt in knowing that he
had set right a small piece of the world.
The bird soon fatigued and coasted down, through an open
window in the cabin. Frightened, he headed towards voices
familiar from the forest. He landed amongst them. He panted
until he caught his breath. He spoke "What are you guys"?
"Flys". "What are you all doing on this yellow paper"? "The
naturalist hangs it in his cabin, we get stuck in its glue, and slowly
die. What are you crying about, you're a bird. By the way, what
kind of bird are you"? "I, I'm, I'm a hummingbird fly".
Space Stout, Guest Writer
Copyright, Mrs. A's Corporation 2006

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