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[personal profile] ariadnelives
I'm in that annoying stage of the move where there is something left to do in every room, and the attention that the kitchen and bathroom need is becoming more painful to acknowledge as the rest of the rooms clear out. I should be cleaning, but I want to sit with the quiet and a cup of coffee for a little while longer. I was going to stay at the new place last night, but as things stood at about midnight, there still isn't room to put my bed down, and I still had an air mattress, so I crashed here, in what will soon be my old place.

La la la.

I finally threw out old journals from when I was 20-23. I'd been keeping them in my box of memorabilia, which I usually use to store things that make me (or have made me) feel loved or at least very much present in a particular moment. Journals though, especially those, just suck for accomplishing a sense of re-anchoring my metaphorical boat. Last night I caught up on myself, age 27, which wasn't quite as painful but was still hard to read. When I look at things I've written, it's like watching a fat, bespectacled pubescent band kid wander around the cafeteria looking for a place to sit where other people won't throw french fries in his/her hair. Like, I can empathize with myself, having been there once, but another part of me wants to step in and stop the whole thing from happening.

I bought a nice color for my new room-- it's something like Darker Butter, or Late Afternoon Sunshine or Faded Oranges. It's a warm yellow. I also bought a dark blue gloss, and I'm planning on painting all of my bookshelves (and parts of the surfaces of the built-in stuff) and making a wall of books, even though the shelves are all different sizes. I'm looking forward to hardwood floors and built-in drawers and shelves.

I have a lot to do. I best get on it.

Date: 2010-07-04 08:05 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Ick. I hope you can get the rest of The Move sorted in a sort of efficient haze.

I don't know if I could throw out old journals... that was a pretty radical thing to do, at least it would be for me.

Your new place sounds pretty great :-)

Date: 2010-07-05 04:31 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I refer to them in my head as the suicide journals. Looking at them, I don't recognize the person I was in them, anymore. They do hold important conclusions for me, about me, like that I used to be very good at confrontation (and suspect that I currently am also good at confrontation) but I'm also so sensitive that facing the consequences for that fiery part of me is too hard, and I have crumbled into myself as a result. If I'd kept track of what was happening instead of what I felt, they would have been harder to pitch.

Date: 2010-07-04 09:35 pm (UTC)
ext_15768: (Default)
From: [identity profile]
That was me Monday night except for the sleeping at the old place part. Wednesday I spent 8 hours clearing out all of what was left behind and cleaning the old place. Bleagh. Still recovering. SRSLY.

I came very close to throwing out a binder from when I was 20 for the same reason, but I figure I don't need to actually read through and I may at some point want to remind myself ...

Shelving: sounds so familiar.

I'm missing hardwood floors. I brought every piece of bare and stained wood with me, even the ones that don't belong to anything, to counterbalance the anonymous white walls and off-light-grey carpet.

Um. Um. You can do it! Yeah!

Date: 2010-07-05 04:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Pack a little, think a little, clean a little, brood a little, repeat...

Date: 2010-07-05 03:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
IX NAY on the moving bit. Meaning, I just hate it so hard. Here's hoping the bits get smaller and smaller in each room and the kitchen and bathroom clean themselves!

Date: 2010-07-05 04:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I hate it too. While I've been doing it, I've been thinking about what I can do to minimize the pain in the ass I anticipate it to be the next time, and so far, my only solution is arson.


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