whoever is writing the script of my life, must have a great taste for irony. its constantly being dispensed to me in liberal doses, to either hilarious or devastating effect. today's example is both.

THE RISE OF NEATNESS NIRVANA

it is a fact universally known, that amanda has been procrastinating packing her room since the end of the alevels. while others rushed home to build bonfires, burning their notes and shredding up papers in some pagan celebration of liberation. amanda returned home, sunk into her bean bag and watched the oprah winfrey show on loop. since then she has been stuck in an incorrigible state of inertia.

it is now nearly HALF A YEAR since the conclusion of the alevels, and still her room is languishing in a time warp. her study is reminiscent of Miss Havisham's mansion, a picture of disgraceful decadence. stacks of cobweb-strung notes, absolutely untouched since 5pm on 26 November (the climatic End of the Alevels), still in their disordered "mugging piles". in fact, her A level entry proof and schedule still take pride of place on the noticeboard, with all dates struck out except the last.

so eventually, goaded by Suze Orman on the Oprah show and her words to a hapless housewife, "No human being who LOVES herself would live in such disorder! I see the mess in your house, and I can only think that psychologically you are not AT PEACE." and Oprah's resounding rejoinder "YOU ARE NOT LIVING YOUR BEST LIFE". i decided, that i was high time i CLEANED UP MY ACT. i mean i'm not going to let my room be evidence of a screwed up psyche, i'm very much psychologically balanced thankyouverymuch. furthermore, it was imperative that my room be cleaned up because the Newspapers were coming over to take a photo on Monday, and the extent of mess in my room was virtually INHUMAN. and i wanted to convey the impression that i was indeed a well-adjusted individual, not the proud hillbilly owner of a hovel.

my two lovely ever-obliging friends from church, kaye and sam came over to help me pack. (well we were supposed to embark on our fitness regime of swimming, but that fell through). i don't think i'm good at this Eradicating Clutter business. i'm far too sentimental. i insist on keeping half of the things in my "Memory Box" (i have about six large Memory Boxes). the cleaning up session, quickly descended into me singing hwachong school songs to Sam (we found my hwachong student handbook), and her mocking my childhood poetry by reading it out aloud.

but kaye arrived, and brought along her RELENTLESS EFFICIENCY. and soon half of the things on my shelf were on the floor, and we were like busy little elves, holepunching notes, filing things up, categorising notes, flinging stacks of paper into the trash. as kaye repeated her authoritative refrain of "THROW! YOU DON'T NEED THAT. THROW IT AWAY". kaye, with the aesthetic eye of a Domestic Goddess, also arranged all the books beautifully on my shelf, even arranging them so they were all in the same "plane", and the spines didn't jut out.

so they left after about four hours. and despite all the work, i still had a huge puddle of mess on the ground, i literally could WADE in it. i stayed up until 1am filing everything up beautifully and labelling everything so now i have a whole spectrum of multi-coloured files filled with my Alevel notes (i'm keeping some of them for sentimental value). by this time i had filled up 6 huge trashbags of memorabilia from my school days. you could call me an academic hoarder, until sunday, i still had all my notes from SECONDARY ONE. but i had finally achieved NEATNESS NIRVANA. take that Suze Orman, i'm TOTALLY LIVING MY BEST LIFE.

THE FALL OF NEATNESS NIRVANA

unfortunately the next day NEATNESS NIRVANA began to unravel. the photographer from the paper arrived, looked at my study and decided the rows of perfectly organised books and files was too boring a backdrop for the photo (after EIGHT HOURS of EXTREME MAKEOVER). instead, he decided to use my BEDROOM as a setting. my bedroom had been neglected in Operation Clean Up. my sofa is strewn with clothes (and underwear and towels), dirty clothes are mingled with clean ones. shoes are stacked haphazardly by the door. my luggage from japan is still open and on the floor. piles of University Correspondences are scattered artistically on the ground...thank goodness the photo only captured my wall.

next, PhotographerDude decides to take an alternative shot as well. he asks me "are you a messy person?". deciding to give up the charade. i admitted i was. "okay" he says, "lets see you in your natural state". so basically, he instructed me to EMPTY MY BOOK CASE and splay all the books on my shelves artistically on the table. my face BLANCHED at this, and i feebly protested that I had cleaned my room yesterday. the next thing i knew it, all my books from Atwood to Larkin to Woolf were building blocks in some sort of literary sculpture (they didnt even use this picture anyway.)

i think i am simply not destined to live an Ordered Life. my maid walked in and cackled "LOSERRR. Your room is nice for only TWELVE HOURS". and i realised that i have yet to clean out my drawers and organise my Important Documents shelf. so there is still work to be done. plus my bedroom is another mega Extreme Makeover project altogether, and the process of decluttering is never-ending. i think the PSC psychologist was right when she commented "you have a very high tolerance for disorder in your life",which is basically a euphemism
for'you're a very messy person'.i honestly can't imagine what my room at Cambridge would be like, needless to say, i'm just very glad i don't have a roommate. there will be restraining orders held against me and my inordinate mess, or perhaps even complaints to the United Nations Human Rights Commission under the secondary right to a Healthy Living Environment.

At any rate, I have something like 150 lit scripts to mark over the weekend (after marking 70 essays and 70 compres and summaries over the past week), so i will not have anymore time for domestic endeavours. but SOMEDAY, i will truly LIVE MY BEST LIFE (as oprah says), and my house will be A SPOTLESS PRISTINE MUSEUM, worthy of the frontpage of Beautiful Homes. (unfortunately, this is about as likely as me being a champion Triathlete, but it never hurts to aim high.)