I've spent the entire day cleaning and studying (I'm taking a rather ass-kick difficult Korean class). Just like high school with the addition of cleaning. I have never been a very clean person.
I say this in a very general sense, meaning so much more than a messy room, or in my case, a messy room and a messy kitchen/living room and a messy shoilet (shower/toilet[my life is a bit weird these days]). It's a messy life, really. It's being overweight, and having no time becuase I've cluttered up my schedule with things-I-have-to-do-to-be-taken-seriously-as-an artist/adult/Christian/taxpayer/Borders Rewards card-holder. It's my torn, crinkled notebooks filled with half finished poems and "really great ideas" for novels and short films. It's the half empty (half full?) sketchbooks and canvases that encompass my "body of work" which will always bear the title "work in progress."
I've always seen myself as rather a work in progress anyway. I've been trying for so long to make something new and fascinating with it that I'm afraid I've lost my taste for fine lines and clean edges. My life is built up of tremendous possibilities, each one more astounding and breathtaking than the last. The beautiful clutter in my brain. I'll stretch myself apart if I try to grab at each one.
Oh well, another thought for another day. Tonight, my clean appartment makes me smile. Tomorrow...
...the possibilities...
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