as i was crawling around on my hands and knees, shuffeling the mess that is my floor from one side of the room to the other, i realised that i suck at this whole being organised thing. I also realised that my bedroom is identical to nearly every 22 year old boy i know who lives on his own, with the exception of color schemes and the fact that the undies on the floor are little more than two 'Y's sewn together... My closet over flows with clothes that i never wear, and there are pieces of paper with important notes and information on them poking out of every crevis. any space unoccupied by objects are occupied by some form of dusty/shiny matter most likely brewed over from a makeup container or the fact that i forgot that the surface existed. there are cups on my desk which no longer have drink in them... only a slimy residue which i'm pretty sure will never come off... I havent changed my sheets since october. I figure i take a shower before bed every night so it dosent matter all that much. occationally, my mother will come over and put a sheet next to my bed, neatly folded and crisp and clean- kindof a reminder that i should try to be more ladylike or whatever... generally i just shove it to the end of the bed to lay in misery with the 20-some-odd other bedsheets she's tried this with before. they muffle the sound of my record player, which is fine by me because somewhere alone the line the volume control got stuck at top volume and the whole house shakes and fuzzes if the blankets arent there... I thought about cleaning today, but shuffled everything from the north to the south instead and still didnt find my damn notebook.