Ordered disorder
On my desk today:
at least a dozen paper cranes
a fresh, clean, and uneaten cell phone charger, which I must have hidden here from my rabbit and forgotten about it entirely, several months ago
a punk rubber ducky with a purple mohawk, which I won last quarter for writing the best tic-tac-toe AI in our computing class
a princess rubber ducky that Dallas brought in so that it and the punk can be friends
more paper cranes
a book of poetry by Heinrich Heine (in Russian, strangely enough), "Meditations" by Marcus Aurelius (in Spanish) - a beautiful gift, "To Kill a Mockingbird" (borrowed and returned and now settled down for good here in the Keller), and "Reinventing Bach" - another precious gift, from a precious person.
a thank you card from an engagement party
a souvenir from Kiev. It is supposed to bring good luck, but instead it brings me peace, like Chopin's Nocturnes, like the infinite darkness of the Pacific Ocean and the shimmering lights of La Jolla outside my window, like a warm campfire.
the bottom part of a shattered snow globe from New York City, with sharp shards of glass sticking up around the edges of the statue of liberty, and the "snow" scattered thinly around a 5cm radius
a wad of neon-pink ribbons left over from a GPS survey we did a few weeks ago - a reminder of a much happier, warmer day than today
a calendar from 2012 with cute animals. When I get some free time, I am meant to cut them out to be added to the already overpopulated paper zoo on the Keller walls (contribution from last year's class of first-year graduate students)
scotch tape and rubbery remains of a balloon from Dallas' birthday decorations.
current and past textbooks of varying levels of usefulness
a borrowed wine glass
tribbles (x3, but they might multiply at any time!)
lotion and chapstick for the harsh San Diego winter
a cactus and some drying tulips in the same pot
wet, sad paper cranes that happened to have been too close to the dying tulips at a moment when I experienced a desperate bout of hope of resurrecting them with a large dose of warm water from the tea kettle.
Visine for those sleepless nights -- the kind that make you feel invincible when you see the sun rise, the kind that make the next day seem surreal...