Cleaning.

So yes, it's been a while dear diary. I've come to realize that my writing in this has become so xanga like. I talk about things that happen, events that occur, all things superficial. I guess it makes sense. I realize this medium is more public than I originally hoped for. It's nice to have a soapbox and all, but soapboxes aren't meant for contemplating. They were designed for shouting.

I think it's time I really revisit what I put in here. Not to censor it of anything objectionable, offensive, or controversial. But really just to do what I intended to so. Write about things I see, and how I interpret them. Maybe how they impact me.

I've been kind of on a cleaning organizing frenzy of late. It seems I'm always in a perpetual state of cleaning or reorganizing my room. Maybe I don't want to settle down. Well, it's obvious I don't want to settle down in my room. But this perpetual reorganization got me wondering what my subconscious desires are telling me.

For one, it's not my real home. I still have the sense that this station is temporary. Any moment I'll be bound for a different location. It's reflected in the way I just kind of haphazardly through things around.

On top of that, I don't think this room can contain me. My life trickles out into the hallway and living room. Into the garage and even the backyard. I wonder what it is about these walls that makes me so rebellious against them. As if I have to break them down and litter my things elsewhere.

It's very in conflict with my initial sentiments when I first moved home. My room was still temporary, but it was a nice confined space to temporarily house my life. It's almost as if the room was not part of the house it was attached to at that time.

Here comes the center diamond of this theoretical arrangement, but you find out it's really just a cubic zirconium. It goes against what you'd expect. Sometimes I feel it's home. I feel a sense of belonging here. I'm familiar with the walls, especially those dents and holes I made. I'm comfortable sitting in that ugly green couch. I find myself buying furnishings for my room. I realize I try so hard to make it mine.