There's a lot of freedom in failure. Of recklessness in weightless abandonment

Have you ever noticed how everyone, everywhere loves to categorize things?

I'm not just talking organization, or those people who color code their socks. People love taking broad topics (like other people) and pushing them into several distinct, bite-sized molds for easy digestion. You see it all the time in statistics and internet quizzes. Are you type A, B, or C? If you ARE type A, that means there's a series of traits that you absolutely must have. Are you an optimist or a pessimist? A Virgo or a Libra? A jock or a punk? A man or a woman?

The last is especially used and, often, run into the ground. Frequently traits attached to men and women are scientifically/psychologically proven and are more or less undisputed (is anyone NOT of the overall opinion that women are more socially oriented than men?). But entire libraries have been dedicated into exactly how men differ from women, down to the way we and they eat. And then it's sectioned further, into different classifications of women and men. There's the high maintenance peppy girls, the rough-and-tumble tom boys, the meek bookworms, the classy women. Then there's the well dressed metrosexual, the romanticizing poet, the dense but lovable average joe, the hardcore rebellious type. Of course everyone fits into one of these.

I'm extremely guilty of this. I love being able to think of everything in manageable squares that I can pull out and base decisions off of when needed. But most things, most of all, people, aren't that simple, and you really can't just compartmentalize like that. If everyone fit into 6 or 7 distinct categories I'd be either a pocket protecting, spectacle wearing, social skill lacking nerd, or some sort of farm raised tom girl image, and I don't think either particularly captures me.

Inspired by The Girl's Guide To Guys.