As I sit down to write this post, I notice a barely used scanner on my desk. It’s one of those handheld ones shaped sort of like a wand, with a control panel of buttons on one side and couple of slits on the opposite, business end where the scanner takes its images. It costs $99, plus tax. I’ve only used it twice.
And now that I’m in the thick of writing, I am starting to see even more of the crap that I’ve accumulated in the three short months that I have lived on my own. I can name a few more that are lying around, and these are just on my desk:
- A USB gamepad that I took from my parent’s house to play games on my PC, but never used it because most of the games I wanted to play don’t support the thing.
- Several caps from jars of various moisturizers and creams I use to combat my psoriasis.
- A stack of cards, which includes expired driver’s licenses, a Dave and Buster’s Power Card, to a MyPanera card that I totally thought I had lost.
- The first four books of George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire saga. I’m glad to say that I’ve started A Game of Thrones and I’m totally digging it.
- Birthday cards from my birthday/housewarming party last October. I have yet to use the Best Buy gift card that my good buddy, Robert, had given me.
- Several post-it notes containing names of pop culture icons, and some containing freakish drawings that I can only guess were created in a state of drunkenness. I have yet to put them up on a memory board so I can remember how awesome that party was.
I know comedy usually works in three’s, but there is so much stuff worth mentioning I am barely able to restrict myself to just six. 6 = 3 X 2... so maybe that means my list is twice as funny? Doubt it. At least I get to show the extent of how messy my life has gotten.
It’s my mess, though. It’s nice to see how I’ve naturally gathered things that say, “This is who I am, and this is what I’m about.” When I lived with my parents, even with my own bedroom, I still felt like my identity was at odds with the other strong personalities in the house. I’m glad I finally have a place where my ego can stretch out a bit. Hell, I might even grow from this.
That’s too positive of a statement, I think. Positive statements give me the willies. But, it’s kind of a fun feeling to have, this personal growth thing. I feel like this junk kind of represents the experience I’ve collected in this stage of my life. Still, I better learn to organize, or all of this experience (and stuff) is going to overwhelm me. Also, my girlfriend would appreciate being able to walk through my apartment without tripping over something.
As for me... I like an unexpected fall now and again.
