smileyjess

i just cleaned my half of the room two days ago. let's talk about how i'm a ridiculous slob for a minute, okay?

last year, i had good excuses. liv and i shared a space the size of my italian greyhound's doggie travel cage. last year, i was a naive freshman who crammed literally every object of her room into corrugated cardboard boxes (mirror, photo frames, the cute oversized mug from winter ball 2003, - dare i say it? an april precious moments figurine - you get the picture) and packed more pairs of shoes than one person should ever have the privilege of owning in an entire lifetime. (i resorted to using my three in one printer/scanner/fax machine as a shoe tree. i wish i were kidding. so does my dad.) last year, i told myself liv was just an extremely neat person - one who *gasp* doesnt let clothes sit on the floor for days/weeks at a time, one who *sharp intake of breath* does laundry instead of just buying obscene amounts of pink underwear at victoria's secret when it comes down to the last two pairs, one who *ohmygod* knows how to work the vaccuum! in these ways (an infinitely many more) liv was the World's Greatest Freshman Year Roommate a Girl Could Ever Possibly Ask For. (mumbles to self: goddamnit ended a sentence in a preposition, i'm sorry, madeleine!! "for which," i know, i know.)

turns out that allie's the same way, thus leading me to the conclusion that neither of them are the obsessive compulsive neat freaks that i may have originally perceived them to be, but rather that I'M A FUCKING SLOB. i can't make any excuses for myself this year. our suite is huge. i brought less stuff. for crying out loud i wear the same pair of jeans every day because im afraid to start taking stuff out of my closet for fear that it will never ever make it back onto its hanger.

i just cleaned, literally, two days ago. in front of me are two empty poland spring bottles, one worldwide calling card (ryan is in spain today! im so jealous i could bursttttt!), three abandoned necklaces from this morning's meager attempt to actually wear something other than a black sweatshirt, three packs of (written-on) index cards of cell and molecular biology notes, my gustav klimt tea mug, two ripped off price tags, keys, bottle opener, teabag holder, four post its (all outdated to do lists), the bhagavad gita, my world cup lighter, my camera sans batteriess, two lip glosses, one chapstick, two hair elastics....

i could go on. it's abso ridic. my logic in writing about it was that maybe i'd become so ashamed of admitting my slovenly state that i'd actually resort to putting it all in its proper place.

instead, i've just come to the realisation that my life's in shambles, so why should my personal space be any other way???