I think I've finally reached what alcoholics refer to as "rock bottom." So I have decided to publicly stone myself.
I am so administratively unorganized that I just found out that I have been having an on-going text (SMS) conversation with the completely wrong person.
Somehow I managed to create a contact in my iPhone with the wrong last name. And one of the three Phillips I know has been sending messages and I have been replying thinking that it was a completely different Phillip.
Between the English/German translations, all the clues that would tip you off that the conversation was a little funny just weren't there. It was only when I saw one of the Phillips in person last Sunday, that he brought over his phone and showed me one of my answers with a questioning look like, "What the...??" (This is basically an international expression for bewilderment, sometimes given with sympathy and other times given with questioning eyebrows that say, "Have you fallen on your head??")
When I sit and analyze this I really don't know whether to laugh or cry.
For over a year now, practically every single contact in my iPhone is in there twice. Saved under first-name, last-name and then again under last-name, first name. There are also some triplicates that appear when I attempted to over-ride my problems by making contacts with nicknames. (Now that was just pure genius. The old "work-around" trick.) Don't even get me started with my friends who have multiple email addresses. They're in my book over and over again. I've cloned them all, and then cloned their clones. At one point, I was in my own contacts 4 or 5 times. Instead of finding a delete or merge function, I found it easier to embrace all of my digital personalities.
Most of this happened when I brought my Yahoo contacts into my laptop and then synced with my phone. This kind of technical alchemy is beyond me. Even typing that sentence, I'm not sure I've used the correct verbs.
And it gets even worse. I actually have a dearly departed friend still in my contacts even though she's been gone over three years now. This is about as spooky as my paper address book that is filled with dead people. I mean, what if I had been sending text messages to the deceased?
Now you would think that I would just go through and clean all this up wouldn't you? But instead, to my own agony and frustration, I continue to (barely) function with a very bad system. This must satisfy some horrible inner need for self pain or something. Just like those tortured souls who find relief in self mutilation, I instead mutilate myself mentally.
In the amount of time it took me to draft this post I could've cleaned up a few names hey? But this is the problem with me. It's ALL or NOTHING. Unless I'm committed to sitting down and doing the ENTIRE project correctly (and this includes merging that damn scary paper book too) I won't do a thing. I'm an idealist folks. Less than 10% of the population or some cursed thing. My head is aching inside with dread. I feel like rocking in the corner and chanting, "It's OK. With all the pain and suffering going on in the world out there, this is nothing. It's all going to be OK."
There are only two solutions at this point: a personality transplant OR one of those life organizer people show up on my doorstep and we do a television show.