Calmer and a bit wiser
So this cleaning thing - while still aggravating as hell - seems to cause me to spend too much time thinking. I do mean too much time. But at he same time it gives me a chance to recall a couple of things about myself.
1) I was pretty damn hot in high school. I mean one or two little issues with a few things, but I was hot. I think I ought to grow my hair out again, not as long as it was, but like mid-chest would do. And here I must giggle at myself because it's an interesting thing to think ten years later.
2) The second thing I discovered/rediscovered/had an epiphany about, was that I have a gift. It took reading things I'd written twenty years ago to see it, but I can write. It's not something that has been important to me for a very long time, like I simply didn't care anymore. of course now that I'm going through everything I fucking own it becomes apparent that I've neglected an important part of myself in favor of things that, when you get right down to the heart of it, actually mean very little to me. I can paint with pencil and pigment, but my real ability lies in painting with words and it's something I think it's time I went back to.
...and cleaning is still kicking my ass. I have one room to finish tonight *rubs hands together maniacally* and one tomorrow. Then, hopefully, I will Never. Have. To. Do. This. AGAIN. *faints*
1) I was pretty damn hot in high school. I mean one or two little issues with a few things, but I was hot. I think I ought to grow my hair out again, not as long as it was, but like mid-chest would do. And here I must giggle at myself because it's an interesting thing to think ten years later.
2) The second thing I discovered/rediscovered/had an epiphany about, was that I have a gift. It took reading things I'd written twenty years ago to see it, but I can write. It's not something that has been important to me for a very long time, like I simply didn't care anymore. of course now that I'm going through everything I fucking own it becomes apparent that I've neglected an important part of myself in favor of things that, when you get right down to the heart of it, actually mean very little to me. I can paint with pencil and pigment, but my real ability lies in painting with words and it's something I think it's time I went back to.
...and cleaning is still kicking my ass. I have one room to finish tonight *rubs hands together maniacally* and one tomorrow. Then, hopefully, I will Never. Have. To. Do. This. AGAIN. *faints*