Each card, or entry, is different depending upon level of importance and/or necessity. These cards, or informative entities, tend to leave a bookmark or footnote in the deep recesses of my mind and patiently await rediscovery.
Occasionally, when I see a spectacular sunset, smell gently kissed flowers after rain, or hear crickets perform their nightly symphony, my covert card catalog starts to rummage through these ideas and indices. Every now and then, those hidden bookmarks jump back into action and remind me that the sunset I'm gazing upon has a beautiful passage of text that is the perfect fit. This process is, oxymoronically, nothing short of chaotic bliss.
This very process, this series of events, happened the other night. Not only was I viewing a breathtaking masterpiece, I was also reliving the masterful words of a brilliant author. Maybe this clandestine card catalog and its chaotic bliss is not a bad thing after all . . .
(Sometimes I can't help myself when it comes to alliteration. Annoying? Yes. Fun to do? Yes. Obsessed? Probably.)
