Four Seasons Worth of Cleaning
I am taking a break from intensely cleaning my room while the parents have, all day, been watching some campy Hitchkock marathon on some crappy television network.
I realize that I've been very bad about updating lately. I haven't written often and when I do, it's hardly my usual thoughtful introspection. That's because I've been feeling strange lately. Sometimes too deep for words, sometimes just wanting to shut the world away in one of these boxes, to have the comfort of knowing that I can just pack it up and move it around with me wherever I please.
I've also been sick lately. Not diagnosed-illness sick, but my headaches have returned full force and brought all their little headache friends out to play, and between my allergies and possible latent asthma, it just hasn't been good times.
My room is about 10x12 (in the new house it will be 11x11), and I have a lot of STUFF compressed into that small space. I hate that I'm such a packrat. I've been throwing out several bags of garbage every few days, without much improvement. I'm hoping that slow and steady will win the race, and that after some time I'll have made a dent in this little hellhole. I wouldn't say no to a plant that ate dirty socks or somesuch right about now.
(God, I miss those books.)
I started reading Oedipus today for school, and the whole time in my head I'm just hearing Buffy say, "Oh Oedipus, Oedipus, unhappy Oedipus. That is all I can
call you, and all that I ever shall call you." Sort of ruins the tragic effect.
Well, I shall return to my cleaning mess. We're moving at the end of June, and I don't know if there's any way I can bring half this stuff with me.
Woe, woe, and thrice woe upon me.
I realize that I've been very bad about updating lately. I haven't written often and when I do, it's hardly my usual thoughtful introspection. That's because I've been feeling strange lately. Sometimes too deep for words, sometimes just wanting to shut the world away in one of these boxes, to have the comfort of knowing that I can just pack it up and move it around with me wherever I please.
I've also been sick lately. Not diagnosed-illness sick, but my headaches have returned full force and brought all their little headache friends out to play, and between my allergies and possible latent asthma, it just hasn't been good times.
My room is about 10x12 (in the new house it will be 11x11), and I have a lot of STUFF compressed into that small space. I hate that I'm such a packrat. I've been throwing out several bags of garbage every few days, without much improvement. I'm hoping that slow and steady will win the race, and that after some time I'll have made a dent in this little hellhole. I wouldn't say no to a plant that ate dirty socks or somesuch right about now.
(God, I miss those books.)
I started reading Oedipus today for school, and the whole time in my head I'm just hearing Buffy say, "Oh Oedipus, Oedipus, unhappy Oedipus. That is all I can
call you, and all that I ever shall call you." Sort of ruins the tragic effect.
Well, I shall return to my cleaning mess. We're moving at the end of June, and I don't know if there's any way I can bring half this stuff with me.
Woe, woe, and thrice woe upon me.