(no subject)
Amanda came into town yesterday. We went to get coffee, and since i wasn't doing anything, I went back to tuscaloosa with her. Met her new boyfriend- who is cool, because he shared his vodka. Slept at his apartment, which was extraordinarily clean.
I came across the realization that clean people intimidate me. GREATLY. They (which is a pretty inclusive pronoun, but since i'm not clean, i get to gather all of you who are cleaner than me into one great big category) have things in order, often clean things when they immediately turn dirty or become unkempt, and use coasters and dusters and Febreeze. I feel if i slip up, forget to use a special cleansing tool, don't fold a blanket, fail to put my rinsed plate in the dishwasher, then shame should downpour on me. I hate doing these things; there's a certain way I conduct my time, and I do not interject bothersome mini-chores into it. I do it while at someone else's place out of respect, of course. But that leaves me inhibited in how I act towards that person. It's not comfortable for me. I'm not gross, just messy. And I'm sure people who are gross would provide the same opinion as i am. Nurture plays a big part in why I feel this way, because let's face it, I never really had to do much cleaning while growing up. So that only leaves nature, and why rest shameful eyes on those who act upon their instinct?
In other news, I'm going to Texas for Thanksgiving. Yep, we're driving. I'll come back a week later and most likely 5 pounds heavier. Then I plan on a 311 show in Nashville. That's about the only positive thing on my mind right now.
Oh and this is why I continue to love Henry David Thoreau. You don't need to read it, but you should because he's amazing. (Check out the first line; i apparantly don't have a "clean" conscience...hahaha..yeah ok just read) :
Conscience
Conscience is instinct bred in the house,
Feeling and Thinking propagate the sin
By an unnatural breeding in and in.
I say, Turn it out doors,
Into the moors.
I love a life whose plot is simple,
And does not thicken with every pimple,
A soul so sound no sickly conscience binds it,
That makes the universe no worse than 't finds it.
I love an earnest soul,
Whose mighty joy and sorrow
Are not drowned in a bowl,
And brought to life to-morrow;
That lives one tragedy,
And not seventy;
A conscience worth keeping;
Laughing not weeping;
A conscience wise and steady,
And forever ready;
Not changing with events,
Dealing in compliments;
A conscience exercised about
Large things, where one may doubt.
I love a soul not all of wood,
Predestinated to be good,
But true to the backbone
Unto itself alone,
And false to none;
Born to its own affairs,
Its own joys and own cares;
By whom the work which God begun
Is finished, and not undone;
Taken up where he left off,
Whether to worship or to scoff;
If not good, why then evil,
If not good god, good devil.
Goodness! you hypocrite, come out of that,
Live your life, do your work, then take your hat.
I have no patience towards
Such conscientious cowards.
Give me simple laboring folk,
Who love their work,
Whose virtue is song
To cheer God along.
I came across the realization that clean people intimidate me. GREATLY. They (which is a pretty inclusive pronoun, but since i'm not clean, i get to gather all of you who are cleaner than me into one great big category) have things in order, often clean things when they immediately turn dirty or become unkempt, and use coasters and dusters and Febreeze. I feel if i slip up, forget to use a special cleansing tool, don't fold a blanket, fail to put my rinsed plate in the dishwasher, then shame should downpour on me. I hate doing these things; there's a certain way I conduct my time, and I do not interject bothersome mini-chores into it. I do it while at someone else's place out of respect, of course. But that leaves me inhibited in how I act towards that person. It's not comfortable for me. I'm not gross, just messy. And I'm sure people who are gross would provide the same opinion as i am. Nurture plays a big part in why I feel this way, because let's face it, I never really had to do much cleaning while growing up. So that only leaves nature, and why rest shameful eyes on those who act upon their instinct?
In other news, I'm going to Texas for Thanksgiving. Yep, we're driving. I'll come back a week later and most likely 5 pounds heavier. Then I plan on a 311 show in Nashville. That's about the only positive thing on my mind right now.
Oh and this is why I continue to love Henry David Thoreau. You don't need to read it, but you should because he's amazing. (Check out the first line; i apparantly don't have a "clean" conscience...hahaha..yeah ok just read) :
Conscience
Conscience is instinct bred in the house,
Feeling and Thinking propagate the sin
By an unnatural breeding in and in.
I say, Turn it out doors,
Into the moors.
I love a life whose plot is simple,
And does not thicken with every pimple,
A soul so sound no sickly conscience binds it,
That makes the universe no worse than 't finds it.
I love an earnest soul,
Whose mighty joy and sorrow
Are not drowned in a bowl,
And brought to life to-morrow;
That lives one tragedy,
And not seventy;
A conscience worth keeping;
Laughing not weeping;
A conscience wise and steady,
And forever ready;
Not changing with events,
Dealing in compliments;
A conscience exercised about
Large things, where one may doubt.
I love a soul not all of wood,
Predestinated to be good,
But true to the backbone
Unto itself alone,
And false to none;
Born to its own affairs,
Its own joys and own cares;
By whom the work which God begun
Is finished, and not undone;
Taken up where he left off,
Whether to worship or to scoff;
If not good, why then evil,
If not good god, good devil.
Goodness! you hypocrite, come out of that,
Live your life, do your work, then take your hat.
I have no patience towards
Such conscientious cowards.
Give me simple laboring folk,
Who love their work,
Whose virtue is song
To cheer God along.