#6 - Rearranging my room.

This post goes out 100% to my father, who sent me both an email AND a facebook message telling me to update. He can now share my mother's frustration in only being mentioned in a negative (?) sense on this blog. For the record, my dad is A) the smartest person I know and B) the hardest working. So his frustration in my total lack of posting is understandable

ANYWAYS, I spent about three hours today rearranging the furniture in my room. Last year, I lived in a really old, tiny apartment that exactly two fantastic features. The first was an amazing brick patio, which was almost as big as the apartment itself. The second was the fact that it had solid concrete floors, which made rearranging the apartment (something I tend to do when stressed and/or avoiding real work) a piece of cake. I now live with a roommate in a much bigger, much nicer apartment with carpeted floors, and rearranging furniture was a bit of a hassle today.

The whole project began when I decided to do laundry, a Herculean effort in and of itself. For the past few weeks, the stress of studying for the GRE and beginning my senior year of college has left me lacking in the organization department. Pretty much every item of clothing I own was on the floor at the bottom of my closet, and I had just about run out of things to wear. In the act of doing laundry, I realized that my closet was all but designed for disorganization. I don't have enough shelves or hangers or drawers or anything of that nature. So I decided to tear down a set of cabinets I had and put it in my closet. That, in turn, left a big empty space on one of my walls, which just wouldn't do.

To describe the rest of my rearranging would be pointless, since the people who read this blog (HI MOM AND DAD) haven't spent enough time in my room to appreciate the improvements. Actually, I don't think anyone but my roommate and I have. The point is this: rearranging my room is an inexplicably comforting process. One of the things that's scariest about being an adult is the fact that there are still so many things over which I have absolutely no control. I guess I thought that growing up meant no one could tell you what to do, or when or how to do it. That's not the case. I've still got a hundred people telling me to do a thousand different things, and I don't think that's going to change anytime soon.

And yet, no one can tell me that my bed HAS to be up against the western wall, or that it doesn't look good centered underneath the south window (although, to be fair, that's because it does look empirically awesome there). No one can tell me that I HAVE to put my TV on my dresser, or that a kitchen table is an unacceptable substitute for a desk. I don't have control over much, but at least I have control over the place where I sleep. Now if only I could figure out where to put my guitar...

PROGRAMMING NOTE: Wow, senior year is difficult. I'm going to get back on track. I promise!