How my room looks is generally a good indication of where my mind is at. Which means my mind is anywhere but here.
I had briefly contemplated taking a photo of my atrociously messy room to portray how bad off I am. I am not a neat freak by any means, but I do generally keep my things orderly. Right now, I have piles of books on the ground, piles of papers on the scanner, piles of clothes everywhere. The only cleared surface in my room is—or was—my bed. I had had to move the clean clothes from the chair to the bed to have a place to sit.
So why is my mind so scattered? I don’t really know. I’m not stressed, even though the end of the semester is here, which brings with it two essays, two math tests, and a written short answer/essay final. I know some people are slammed beyond belief, but I’ve been working hard all semester, and real finals are hard to come by in upper English classes. Most teachers would rather you type up a final essay at home than read handwriting, so the essays are really finals in disguise.
Other than that? I’ve been reading. I tore through three books this weekend, although two were trashy romance novels (don’t laugh. I always own up to my reading materials. And they were Regency Romance. So there) and the third was Servant of the Bones by Anne Rice.
I’d read Servant before, and I checked it out of the library again for this go-round. Except… Now I’ve half formulated poems floating around my head involving bones, and Blake, and maybe a little bit of Milton and a ton of history cramming it’s way down through my pen, which means everything is stripped out.
Whoever said poetry is 10% of what a poet imagined in their head is entirely correct.
Add on top of all of that a sick desire to torture myself at the gym, and that’s about it. I was so off-kilter on Tuesday that I forgot Wednesday’s post. And I was all twitchy and jumpy every time I thought about how I had missed a day. Yes, I get like that about classes too.
So, just like my room, my mind is a jumbled mess. I have things I want to talk about, things I’d like to vent about, and things I’d like to forget ever occurred to me.
I think a podcast is coming in the very near future, although, not with You. We’ve run into a slight snag in how to record our conversations over Skype, and until we get that sorted, it’s just going to have to wait.
—”Chicago is so Two Years Ago,” Take This to Your Grave: Fall Out Boy
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