Chaos

 Experts say that people with high IQ have messy desks. A study found that a messy workspace can lead to more creative thinking and novel solutions. I guess my dad will not take this as an excuse for my chaotic desk, though. He's always been the kind of person who thinks a clear desk equals a clear mind. As a PhD physicist, he's used to precision and order, which makes my chaotic workspace a constant source of tension. Every time he passes by my room, I can almost hear him silently screaming inside. Sometimes, he screams outside too, launching into a full-on lecture about the importance of 'maintaining an efficient work environment'—as if I'm supposed to be solving for quantum field theory equations on my cluttered desk.

"Zoe, how can you even find anything in here?" he often says, as if the entire universe isn't just one chaotic mess trying to make sense of itself. I mean, does he expect order in a universe ruled by entropy? I like to think my desk is just a small tribute to the second law of thermodynamics. Sure, it might look like a tornado hit it, but I know exactly where everything is—mostly.

The thing is, my dad's a PhD physicist, and you'd think he'd understand my homage to natural chaos. But no, he's all about the order of things, the equations that fit neatly on a whiteboard, and the experiments with predictable outcomes. My desk, on the other hand, is like Schrödinger's box—you don't know if what you're looking for is there until you dive in. It’s kind of exciting, really. It's like a daily adventure into the unknown, armed only with a half-dried-up pen and an unshakable belief that I'll eventually stumble upon whatever I'm searching for.

Today, for example, I needed my calculator. Somewhere between my collection of doodled-on sticky notes and a precarious tower of books on quantum mechanics, I found it—underneath a sketch of a cat wearing a lab coat. It made me laugh, and I figured that’s the kind of spontaneous joy you just don’t get with a tidy desk. My dad might have his perfectly organized workspace, but I have an unpredictable treasure hunt every time I sit down to study. Who knows what forgotten idea or random scrap of inspiration I might unearth next?

He thinks I’m disorganized, but honestly, I think that’s just his orderly brain failing to appreciate the beauty of a little chaos. The funny part is, he's not exactly a poster child for order either. His lab might have neatly labeled shelves, but at home, he's got stacks of journals and random notes scattered everywhere. I guess we both thrive on a bit of chaos—we just express it differently. I mean, even in physics, some of the coolest stuff is born from unpredictability. Like quantum entanglement—particles being connected in ways that defy space and time. My desk is kind of like that; somehow everything is entangled in a beautiful mess, and it works. At least for me.

Of course, I’m not saying my dad is wrong. There’s definitely something to be said for a well-organized space—especially when I’m frantically trying to find my homework five minutes before class. But there’s also something to be said for the creativity that springs from a little bit of disorder. It’s where ideas collide in unexpected ways, where a half-finished physics problem can meet a doodle of a cat and suddenly spark something entirely new.

So yeah, maybe my desk is a mess. Maybe it drives my dad nuts. But for me, it’s a reminder that creativity doesn’t always come from neat lines and tidy categories. Sometimes, it comes from the beautifully unpredictable chaos of a cluttered workspace, where everything and anything is possible.