Journey to Ass-Hat Land

I am going to undertake what initially feels like the most ass-reaming art project of my entire life: Creating, formatting, and integrating my own personal IRS-type filing system. When an idea for a piece is formed, either by sketchbook, conversation, or random doodle, I will require myself to fill out customized forms-- carefully documenting the idea in progress from 'bubble-in medium(s) used' to a color-coded source material appendix (the list of my OCD goes on.)

I had great/awkward conversation with my mentor earlier about the project at hand-- it was awkward because I'm supposed to be schilling out paintings and shit, only to begin our morning meeting by handing him a piece of paper that looked like a dated accounting form. "It'll be interesting to see what you'll actually make from this," (I can't tell if he's being facetious or genuinely intrigued at this point) "it makes me wonder if you'll create the pieces from the form, or be driven to confine them to the very nature of the form."

TRU DAT, sir! Only superbly refined idiots such as myself will be able to determine the cause of this proposed effect.

I know I've had five months to make stuff-- to paint things/themes/whatever-- but the motivation to actually create any of it never really crystallized until now, when I am filled with enough sado-masochism to subjugate myself to a limitless and absolutely pointless filing system that has no other application or meaning to the outside world.

Excessive amounts of energy wasted-- or STORY OF OUR LIVES?!