Did more sorting last night and cleared up all the mess from last week's final project for my Advanced Pastry Arts class. Now, it's time to get back into my cure. That bedroom. It's gotta get done. I think it's depressing me, among other things that are depressing me. April was National Poetry Writing Month, and Hun and I participated. It seemed like the darker poems came a little easier. At least I did them all in my online journal so that they're not gathering up in piles in my room. That bedroom. It's filled with scribbles. I need to take care of all the scribbles.
I’ve been a scribbler all my life. I have an entire shelf filled with various things I’ve written, some coming from my childhood. A lot of them are college papers. There are a LOT of poems. When I was active in the local poetry community, I’d always have a pen with me, sometimes tucked into my French twist, sometimes just jammed into a pocket. I’d almost never have paper, so I’d scribble on napkins, placemat margins, or even my bare arms and hands. If I could’ve taken off my skin like a suit, I would’ve had it pressed, folded it up, and tucked it into the shelf. And that’s just the big shelf. Another shelf is filled with journals. My 6th grade teacher had us keep journals, and she’d give us prompts. What do you want to be when you grow up? A Jim Henson muppeteer. What kind of house do you want? One with a lot of books. Of course, none of those things happened, but I’m fine with that. It’s fun to look back, and interesting to know that I’m still journaling to this day. I also have a big shelf just for zine projects. Some are the zines from the two 24-Hour-Zine Thing events I spearheaded, and some still need to be scanned in. Then my own zine projects. Then there’s a shelf with computer stuff (hardware, software, media files, etc.), dog stuff, techno stuff (wires, cables, adapters—oh my!). Then the cubby holes for the tall, skinny bookshelves—those carry spray paints, colored pencils, block print sets, gift bags and tissue paper to reuse, special art papers, random stationery. Then under my bed and in my closet ... sweater boxes filled with collage materials and art supplies, paper-making stuff, scrapbooking material, rubber stamps. Then about 5 or 6 little tool boxes, each with a designated purpose—paints, sewing and crocheting, tools, more tools, drawing. How do I even begin to make heads or tails of it? Maybe I’ll start with clothes. There’s a big box in my closet holding all my winter clothes. I think I wore maybe two or three things out of it over the winter ... I guess the rest can go.