The O. C.

OK, I give up. Though I really don't think that I am one, in order to stop all these teasing, I'll make a public confession. I have a [slight] obsessive compulsive disorder. Unlike my Ate who [strongly] believes that there's a place for everything, order is not really found in me. But still, I'm finding it difficult to function if things are a lot different from what they're used to be.

I could remember when I was as young as two. My dad beat me because I was rolling like a brat when my set of silverware couldn't be found. I really wouldn't eat without those. What's difficult was it's the only set available.

Two, since I've been working in a callcenter, I have this particular arrangement of my windows, which when not in my order, makes my wind go wild. I really couldn't think well.

Since I've come to know "justify," I already forgotten everything about align left. And this was since 1997. I could remember way back in high school when Arsini, my classmate, told me that my typewriter is not a computer. I really spent a long time calculating the number of characters so that I would know how many spaces were needed for the last letter to touch the right margin.

Then there's this difficulty in me to open packages without scissors. I really hate it when sachets are torn instead of straightly cut. I also don't want to tear papers. I'm already bringing a pair of this tool so that I wouldn't have to be looking for somebody I could borrow from.

If you're observant enough, aside from the first letter in my sentences are capitalized (which should always be the case), I make two spaces after every dot. Hehehe. I just want it to look neat.

My friends and classmates who me that my answer sheets and compositions are always submitted neatly, it's as if I didn't have any hard time solving the problems. Truth is, I always have scratch papers with me. And when our teachers won't allow us to have one, then I would keep on complaining and I couldn't concentrate well with the questions. I also waste some papers if I see a single letter printed wrongly or if I missed to double space a certain line.

But then again, I'm still not orderly. I'm just maarte. You don't know how my Ate Doreen is. Everything is in order. Her closet is very neat, her bed well done. And she knows if somebody has entered her room because of a distinct smell she doesn't possess. Sometimes, I appreciate her being around while I'm cooking because she cleans my mess but most of time, I hate her presence because she keeps on reprimanding me, affecting the taste of the food I'm preparing (it is because one has to be in his good mood when cooking).

But still, these officemates are teasing me that I'm OC. I'm telling you guys, I'm not. I couldn't be. But to give you a sense of contentment that for once you won, fine, I am an OC but slight lang.