I thought this until I met a friend in University who was naturally organized, but I never held it against her because she had a refreshing attitude. I told her how amazing she was, and how I wished desperately that I was the same way. She did not make a deal about it, and simply said “well, some people are that way, some people aren’t,” hinting that it was obviously a nature thing rather than nurture.

A few months ago, I read an article in the New York Times about a writer (Sara Rimer) who was trying to get organized, but she wasn’t really a naturally organized person. She wrote a great article about it. I needed this advice, since during tax time I was trying to reconciliate my old life as a single one-person sole-proprietorship to my new life as a coupled-off president of an employeed corporation. I also moved three times last year.

Sara says:

Organization is not a one-size-fits-all proposition. Just as people’s differing appetites, metabolisms and capacities for exercise mean that a given diet will work well for some, not at all for others, differences in work styles can run deep, and often call for customized approaches to the home office. And yet, the experts say, few of us take (or even believe we have) the time to figure out how we really work, or what kind of system is likely to work for us.

Agreed! I took her advice of using bins instead of files, to simply throw things in, rather than needing to file it in a forgotten drawer. I have been using the system for a few months, and just got Matt to put up some shelves to hold them. Check it out! (you can also see that I like Pocky ).

What if you find the work so tedious and boring that you cannot
  possibly write for more than a few minutes before getting a snack,
  making a phone call, doing some "research" on the internet, playing
  a
  quick game of computer solitaire, or rechecking your e-mail?
  Csikszentmihalyi made the observation that things cannot become
  interesting unless we pay attention to them. (This falls into
  the "It’s-so-obvious-why-didn’t-I-say-it-first-category.")

By focusing, really focusing, on the particular story we
  are trying to tell or mechanism we are trying to explain or
  point we are trying to argue, we seize control of our experience
  and make flow (and a better quality of life) possible.

And I see what she means. When I am really living in a story or an essay, I can write it. When I am distracted by phone calls and people messaging me every five seconds, I can’t.

For example, I can only have a great business idea and promote it to the extent that it has the possibility of success – but I can’t guarantee it will thrive. If it doesn’t succeed, that outcome is fine; I can learn from that experience and move on or I can modify my strategy. I can only help my friend who is having a difficult time in her relationship so she has the possibility of working it out – but I can’t make it work for her (even though it is so hard for me to see her in pain). If it doesn’t work out for her that outcome is fine; I can still listen to her and help her so that she has the possibility of moving on.

This way of thinking helps takes the fear out of reaching for our goals. I think that most of us can’t imagine life without that special relationship/job/possession/habit. But in truth even if we lose those things, we will still be ourselves, and somehow we will find a way to be fine. I think that this is a good mix of optimism and realism. It helps me stay positive while pursuing my wishes and dreams at the same time as realistically assessing and overcoming obstacles.