I can be particular about things.

Such particularities can present as significant personality flaws, so I look for more benign things to be particular about. 

One example: If I see a rock on the sidewalk that belongs to an adjacent patch of landscaping, I need to kick it back where it belongs. It makes me feel good, and it makes the world more ordered and beautiful.

Walking past a consistently unkempt patch of rock, I notice one in the middle of the sidewalk. I adjust my stride so my left foot will be swinging down just as I make my approach. 

About a millisecond after I make contact, all of my senses tell me this is not a rock, but a freshly-baked dog turd. Too late to abort, my foot glides through its slide, spreading the dookie across the sidewalk and across my sole.

In the blink of an eye, I go from trying to make my world infinitesimally more beautiful to having a real disaster afoot — all of my own making. I strip to my skivvies and burn my shoes and clothes along with the entire city block. Or maybe I clean off my shoe in the grass. I can’t quite remember.

There’s going to be misses. Sometimes the rocks we kick are going to turn to shit. But you can’t stop kicking.

We all have particularities. And we all have a choice to harness them to bring beauty to the world or to create a shit show.