Sunday night, contemplative.
Jul. 19th, 2009 10:33 pmThe Fast Food Mafia. Basically: The BK King is always a creeper.
On Friday, I cleaned my room. I especially cleaned out a drawer that had once been occupied with books and things I'd written/printed off. Because of this, I have once again become reacquainted with the fact that I am a pack rat.
In that drawer, I found a lot of old pieces I'd written--for school assignments, and for myself. I found an essay I wrote for my high school psych class when I fully admitted that I wasn't happy with myself. I found my final exam from my lit class in seventh grade, and a draft for a short story I had to write in fourth grade. I think the best thing I found was the prologue to a big, epic vampire story I was writing with a friend when I was fourteen or fifteen. The prose is damn near purple. It makes me grin at how ridiculous it is.
Oh, and I found the sheet music to the song I had to learn to audition for state honors choir in eighth grade. That experience was... eh. When I first started practicing, my music teacher grouped me with the first sopranos. But I got sick, and when I came back my voice was still a little on the weak side, so she suggested that I learn the second soprano part. But then, like, two weeks before the auditions I still wasn't 100%, so she said, "We'll just bump you down to the alto part." When I finally auditioned, I remember going in and singing the alto part, and about halfway through I started to sing one of the soprano parts and as soon as that happened, I inwardly went, Oh damn and kept on singing.
Uh, anyway.
I have issues with keeping my room clean. I don't know why. I only clean when things are severely messy or when I'm pissed off or upset. I always intend on keeping everything neat after, but then things just gradually fall apart. I like it when things are in a state between clean and chaotic, for some reason. The only things I keep in true order all the time are my books, CDs, and DVDs. Oh, and my journals. But everything else, well, I guess I figure I'll find it if I need it.
On Friday, I cleaned my room. I especially cleaned out a drawer that had once been occupied with books and things I'd written/printed off. Because of this, I have once again become reacquainted with the fact that I am a pack rat.
In that drawer, I found a lot of old pieces I'd written--for school assignments, and for myself. I found an essay I wrote for my high school psych class when I fully admitted that I wasn't happy with myself. I found my final exam from my lit class in seventh grade, and a draft for a short story I had to write in fourth grade. I think the best thing I found was the prologue to a big, epic vampire story I was writing with a friend when I was fourteen or fifteen. The prose is damn near purple. It makes me grin at how ridiculous it is.
Oh, and I found the sheet music to the song I had to learn to audition for state honors choir in eighth grade. That experience was... eh. When I first started practicing, my music teacher grouped me with the first sopranos. But I got sick, and when I came back my voice was still a little on the weak side, so she suggested that I learn the second soprano part. But then, like, two weeks before the auditions I still wasn't 100%, so she said, "We'll just bump you down to the alto part." When I finally auditioned, I remember going in and singing the alto part, and about halfway through I started to sing one of the soprano parts and as soon as that happened, I inwardly went, Oh damn and kept on singing.
Uh, anyway.
I have issues with keeping my room clean. I don't know why. I only clean when things are severely messy or when I'm pissed off or upset. I always intend on keeping everything neat after, but then things just gradually fall apart. I like it when things are in a state between clean and chaotic, for some reason. The only things I keep in true order all the time are my books, CDs, and DVDs. Oh, and my journals. But everything else, well, I guess I figure I'll find it if I need it.