Some days i just feel as though i am slowly suffocating… tangled up in life and with each tiny attempt to get free i’m just getting more and more wrapped up. Tonight doing anything makes me vaguely sick with a kernel of potential violence … my broken guitar string urges me to thrash at the other five with my pick until they all relinquish their hold on the bridge. That was the start. Next came the absolutely desolation of my apartment… no food, nothing to do but use my computer and listen to music, the heat trickling into every pour to account for the sweat coming out. The only way i can describe this feel is trapped… i am all wound up with nowhere to go and this apartment is slowly suffocating me and the only thing i can think to do to keep my thoughts flowing and in order is write, because it’s the only thing that would make sense right now. Part of the problem is the mess… the apartment is a perpetual mess, because no matter how many times i try to clean it there aren’t enough places to put my things. Looking around just makes me feel more tangled, like every little spare piece of crap is exerting its own pull on me like all the tiny people and Gulliver. However, mostly two things are bothering me. The first is that i need a new g-string for my guitar, and my guitar strings are nowhere to be found. This is especially annoying because i was writing a new song that was rather intelligent sounding and i’d like to continue. The other is tonight… this empty messy apartment and me and all the thoughts i’ve got bottled up in my head. Empty, messy, and bottled up are all things i’d like to be different. But, anyway, i just had to type something to release some of all this pent up furious energy, and i apologize if it sounds like some awful teenage diary rant, but i just want tomorrow to get here. Now.
I was totally frantic and unfocused yesterday because i was running on 2 hours of sleep and a bag of corn chips that i ate early Sunday morning. Everything in my life keeps falling apart. First of all, i’m falling apart … i went back to the dentist yesterday to try to get my filling situation fixed and he only made it worse. Naive to the ungodly amounts of pain i was about to return myself to i absently-mindedly popped a piece of Trident into my mouth at Tower Records and wound up having to hide in the easy-chair in the periodicals section because i was in too much pain to coherently browse through the records. And, anyhow, i would never pay more than $16 for an album.
Everything is falling apart pieces at a time… Matt took a turn at locking himself out of the apartment today, so i loaned him my keys… except for i couldn’t remember where i put the spares after i got locked out last tuesday, so he had to keep my keys for the entire day. The apartment is a warzone … my physical possessions seem to multiply while i’m away to make more bric-a-brac crap for me to throw on the floor when i get back. Packing for my new apartment at the end of August should be entertaining… out of mine and into the (currently unconfirmed) new place in 12hours flat. Righhht.
I know this is banal, but i have things coming at me from too many directions right now to be able to do anything more than just report on them. And the counselor meeting just let out. Away i go!
For those of you keeping track of these things, my apartment currently houses over 300 cds, 50 blank cds that ought not to be blank, seven randomly distributed neckties, 6 different version of Tori Amos’s “Waitress,” five guitars in various detuned states, four unread Philadelphia Weeklys, three laundry baskets whose contents need washing or folding, two pieces of equipment that explicity belong to Drexel University, and absolutely nothing edible other than a single jumbo-sized jar of peanut butter. Yum.
It’s funny, because i hate dirt and mess. Hate it. It skeeves me out. However, for that exact fact i don’t like to clean. While i might be messy, i’m really not especially dirty, so i don’t see it as my job to clean dishes that have sat in the sink for two or three weeks while i was away from the apartment. However, some of those dishes were mine from the day i was lying on the floor with a 103 degree fever, so i washed them, and every dish i’ve used since then. Despite this, there are still dishes in my sink. Don’t ask me why, because i’d be forced to tell you.
The apartment is such a wreck right now. It’s not as though i’m the one that keeps it clean, but removing me for an entire week doesn’t really help matters either. And, of course, i came back with all sorts of stuff in tow, so now it’s just a mess. Again. It’s always a mess. And i’m already supposed to be looking for a place for next year. EeK!
So, yeah… there’s a small problem which cropped up last night, having to do with a mouse. I seem to have a mouse, you see. As we’ve been over previously, i am not especially fond of rodents when they’re running rampantly around my apartment. Yes, it means i should probably clean more. Yes, i know it’s definitely more afraid of me than i am of it. Frankly, i don’t really care anything at all for rationality, which was my motivation last night while i stood on my chair with my keyboard in one hand pecking out an “SOS” message on instant messenger. Three minutes later i left the apartment (and matt) to fend for themselves against our evil mousey foe and took off at a jog for where i’d be staying the night. It was mouseless. I slept through my first class, but i didn’t mind so much, because i knew my toes wouldn’t be nibbled off if i let my guard down. Ah, how i love security…