plug away

i very rarely gaze at the ceiling anymore. this is a major proof that i am no longer 15. i looked at the ceiling a lot when i was 15. but when i was 15, i really had no other place to be or go, so laying in bed, laying in my sadness and anger was the thing to do. music loud and tears and yells (if i was home alone). or laying silently. focused on the small horrors, looking for a way out, making pictures from the ceiling stucco.

yesterday i noticed there were cobwebs up there so i grabbed the broom. and then i cleaned my bedroom. top to bottom. and beautified it.

i would love to become one of those productive people who undertake a massive cleaning rampage when they are feeling upset. i would love that. and i'm thinking that response to Upset has more to do with nurture than nature... but maybe not.

i was a horribly sloppy child and there wasn't much my mom could do to get me to clean my room other than "You're GROUNDED to your bedroom until it's clean!" ha! and of course, i didn't want to be locked inside my room at that age, i wanted to be outside playing, so i'd start cleaning my room and get distracted by a toy and it would take all damn day to get that room clean. i became a bed-shover-under. and i think that is an inborn reaction. no other little child planted that idea of cleaning in my head and i definitely never saw my mother shove the mess under the bed, so imagine my surprise when she poked her head under there and said "what's all this?" i was like how'd she know to look there????? hahahaha!

i didn't shove anything under the bed yesterday. i put everything away and then i re-arranged, hung different paintings on the walls, even washed the walls with windex. i had to lose myself in something and cleaning seemed a much better thing to lose myself to than laying in bed staring at the ceiling. and afterward, i felt so much better. the room is gorgeous again. plus, a friend of mine from back home is coming up on sunday. she'll be here for a week. we've been friends since we were 14, met walking home from junior high. she is my longest friend. we've never even had a fight.

and so of course i want my little home to be as perfect as possible for her. not that she even cares about that sort of thing and, generally, neither do i... but my little cottage is so packed with paintings and big drawings and projects at this point that i must find a way to establish some kind of order. even if it's only a semblance of order.

today i will dust and straighten the bookcase. this is a major undertaking. MAJOR. my bookcase is actually two HUGE bookcases, side by side, taking up an entire wall. and, in some places, the books are two rows deep. sigh. i'll pretend i am 15. or partially 15, and blast some angry music. while the day away in loud guitars and yelling and cleaning. :)



for the 15 year old girl within you: