Ordering Things Around

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Order for me is not a set of strict requirements which must be fulfilled in its entirety to be considered "ordered." Thinking about it and rambling, as I am often prone to do, "order" is when things align themselves into some sort of discernible pattern which conforms to personal preconceived notions that I had prior to arriving at the given object or situation at hand. When the situation, or "things" as I so brilliantly put, fail to place themselves into a discernible pattern built entirely of my own experiences, I fail to consider them "ordered" and so therefore, as this is a mutually exclusive concept of order altogether, I consider the situation or "things" to be "disordered."

Hence when something is inevitably labeled as disordered, my mind immediately springs into questioning whether this disorder is, or is not, acceptable. If it is acceptable, then I walk away without a second glance. At this point I would like to remind you, dear reader (epic lulz), that I am not referring to writing in particular, but rather my everyday life experiences as an individual.

If, however, this disorder is not acceptable, then I immediately spring into action to reorganize all the contents to better suit my own preconceived notions of "order," whether such an action was invited or not (and most often is not) as part of an uncontrollable urge on my part.

Getting back to writing, I would surmise that "order," for me, is when a paper comes in with clearly defined ideas that don't bleed into each other, beyond transitions and connecting concepts, that all act as their own "mini-essay" within each paragraph. Also I would consider the paper to be "ordered" if each paragraph connected logically with each other. If I fail to see this logical connection, I immediately demand (and Claire you can alleviate your concerns, I am simply using the word for dramatic flair) an explanation as to why these two dissonant ideas are intertwined, or even worse, juxtaposed together out of simple contrivance. If the writer can adequately explain his or her audacious actions, I will find them acceptable and move on without another word. If the writer cannot, I will immediately lash him or her verbally for breaking several cardinal rules of logic and order, which he or she obviously failed to acquire.

At this point I would like to confess I have had no coffee today and that I am very tired.

Getting back to the topic at hand, in my sleep-deprived excessively verbose and excessively harsh tonality, I consider order when writing to be as aforementioned: the clear delineation of ideas and subjects, connected only by transitions and connecting concepts, into a strictly defined "Broad introduction," "Body paragraphs with supporting, or contrasting, or narrative statements, or more that I may be forgetting at this point," and "Conclusion which neatly ties everything together."

Or if I'm writing a story, it's simply ordered chronologically and edited with paragraph breaks for dramatic tension. Whether or not it succeeds is, alas, a subject for another day.