It took me 3 hours to clean my room, and within three days it was already a maze again. I know exactly what my problem is, too; clothes. I don’t take the time to hang up my work shirts, or fold my jeans and put them away. Instead, everything ends up draped over chair backs and from my bunk bed. When I come back with a basket of freshly laundered clothes, they end up sitting in the basket and I just dig through it to find my attire for the day. My shoes pile up because I don’t want to take the time to go into the closet to put them away, sorted nicely into running and dress shoes, strictly casual and multi purpose. Everything I wear ends up piling up, and then I don’t want to deal with it once it gets there, but I think it isn’t a problem before it piles up. In other words, and in a much shorter version, I am not overly organized.
A less stressful mess would be the papers and books that lay strewn around my room. I have old workouts, letters, brainstormed ideas for books or short stories, doodles, random notes I took about animal populations in 11th century Scandinavia, a motley assortment of novels and series of books that I have yet to finish ranging from Jane Austin to Bernard Cornwell to Rahl Dahl, and then the ever present emails that I found to funny to get rid of. I just need to sort all this crap; the clothes and the papers. I need a system that works for me. As long as it works, I should be okay with it. It needs to be simple, straight forward, effective, and lazy. Or maybe I should just use my hangers and trash can more.
I am also doing a very dangerous thing for a 23 year old single male; I am reading Nicholas Sparks. Now before you point and laugh too hard, know that I am already dying of embarrassment as it is a little bit. But what makes it bad (instead of simply red face flushing humility) is that the characters seem to be so perfect for each other… and then I want that… and it just isn’t realistic! For a guy to expect a woman who is strong, yet caring and vulnerable, or a woman to hope beyond hope to find that sensitive yet manly individual is most likely setting them up for disappointment. I know it does happen, but most of the time it doesn’t. Now, since I is a Sparks novel someone is obviously going to die, and I haven’t gotten to that part quite yet, but I am sure I will bawl my eyes out when it does happen, and that I am not looking forward to. And regarding expectations, it not only sets unreasonably high requirements that I may hold for my future partner, but dang do I feel bad about myself. So far in this book, the guy has a perfectly trained dog (I can hardly get mine to sit), he walked across the country (I have only ever gone about 25 miles in one day), he served in the Marine Corps (pretty dang manly, if I do say so myself), fixed the brakes on a car (I know how to fill up the gas tank), plays EVERY FRIGGIN INSTRUMENT OUT THERE (can’t even read bloody music), and is caring, sweet, attentive, sensitive, loving, passionate, knowledgeable, and all around friggin awesome. It’s like being constantly up against Mr. Darcy, but without the character flaws or pride, or prejudice (haha, see what I did there?) that causes him to be a grumpy cat in the sight of others. I think I would rather be standing next to Homecoming and Prom King, the captain of the soccer team (we didn’t have a successful football team, so I left them out of this), and those two foreign exchange students that everyone thinks are, like, oh so dreamy. At least they are all fallible people and not these perfectly emotionally stable creatures that have bodies described as ‘a waist of nothing but muscle and skin,’ too… balls. And look at that, my self-esteem just called. It’s at the airport and wants to know if I want a post card from Sicily.
On a bright note, I was able to get a couple days of sun, mostly due to football practice, and my skin is maintaining that slightly reddish brown tint that I like so much. I keep thinking I am ahead of schedule with getting a good base for summer, but then two things come to mind. First, I work indoors all the time, and will only rarely get out, so having a tan is nowhere near important for me, in all reality. Second, it is June this weekend. I am not ahead of schedule, but it has been rainy and dreary so much I continue to think it is only April. Well, so much for ending on a good note.
No comments:
Post a Comment