Have You Seen My Stapler?

I love Staples.

There is one a mere twelve blocks from my apartment, which I only became aware of a month ago. Before this discovery I used to take the bus to the Office Depot at the Atlantic Center, which is three subway stops from my apartment. On a nice day it is walkable, but it is still far enough so that it didn't become a regular destination point. There isn't an OfficeMax anywhere close.

The Staples is a different story.
I go there a lot.

Point of fact is, I am a stationery whore.

I have an almost fetishistic interest in office supplies. Wandering around looking at binders and pens and monthly planners on dry-erase board provides me with a real sense of calm. When I look at a collection of stackable modular cabinets i cannot help but think, in the midst of the chaos of the 21st century, that dammit, we're making headway. Mankind will not be overcome. We have hanging file folders and multi-colored vinyl-coated paper clips.

I can trace this obsession back to the mid-80s and the Mead paper company's introduction of the Trapper Keeper. This new-fangled binder became a talisman of sorts for us fourth graders. Not only did it keep your papers in order (homework and tests you needed to have signed by your parents were always in danger of being ripped or trampled in our rough and tumble world) but there were plastic slots that also held your pencils. It was a status symbol, and the more bells and whistles your Trapper Keeper had, the cooler you were.

As kids we also decorated our pencils with useless items. I remember the fad of collecting pencil grips, little rubber triangles you slid onto your pencils "in order to hold them better". Of course the goal was to fit as many grips onto your pencil as you could, so that your pencil looked like a red-green-and-orange triangular rubber rod.

And to store these pencils and sharpeners and assorted cap erasers (and the ocassional big-haired troll) there were zippered pencil bags. Some were shapped like giant pencils, some were mini-handbags, and some could even be clipped into your binder or Trapper Keeper. Efficency and order!

Even as a young child I was predisposed to the desire to be organized. My mother and grandmother used to love telling me about the time when I was about two or three and my older cousin came to visit. I had a toybox in which I kept my toys. According to them I always would take a single toy out, play with it for awhile, return it to the box, take out another, play with it, return it, etc. I never had more than one toy out at once. My cousin, on the other hand, came over and began taking every toy out of the box in order to decide which ones he would play with. I am told that I had a look of horror on my face like I was witnessing a life-altering tragedy.

In junior high I remember getting my first filing cabinet. Ironically, this did not help keep my room clean. I am a notoriously disorganized individual and have always kept a messy room. For all my enthusiasm for organizational materials, I find myself surrounded by mounds of papers and clothes and stuff. I used the filing cabinet to keep only certain aspects of my life in order, mainly my creative endeavors. Files were dedicated to scripts and comics I was in the process of working on.

So now, many years later, I still like the idea of being organized. I buy things to catalog and arrange my stuff, but somehow am never able to keep on top of it all. That three year old who played with one toy at a time is long gone and I now spend my days fighting through the clutter. If you were to go through my journals of the last twelve years you would probably find a couple hundred entries that talked about needing to put things in order.

But just when it seems to be a lost cause, and I am drowning in receipts and notes and clothes I haven't worn in years, I take a trip to Staples. Maybe I'll buy a 15-sheet capacity, adjustable hole punch with a few two-pocket portfolios with prong fasteners. Or a 100-pack of CD-Rs and a 14-sheet cross-cut paper shredder.

And I will not be as overcome by my life's disarray. Because dammit, I'm making headway.