minor complaints about my house which cause me much stress

Whhhoooo...just got off of work! How great it feels to not have people calling my name at every second. I am now in the comfort of my home where the constant sound of dog whines and guinea pig squeals fills the air. Where there is always something dirty in the kitchen sink whether its the mixing bowl from my roommates brownie batch last night or his 15 spoons, 5 glasses, and 2 plates which he finally cleared out of his room after days of not knowing what that funky smell was. The kitchen table is forever covered in mail from the current week. What bothers me most about the bottom level of my house is the floors... no matter how many times I vacuum the living room or sweep and mop the kitchen(by the way I am the only one who has ever EVER swept and mopped the kitchen floor) it always seems to look dirty in a matter of minutes.

The second floor bathroom is never clean and because of this no one could
even pay me to go in there. The TV room on this same level never looks presentable and I can never seem to make myself comfortable while I am in it unless I have sole possession of the couch. Did I mention that there is all kinds of unnecessary crap that takes up what little floor space exist in this room? I believe that this is that same crap that I brought down to the basement once before because I was sick of it getting in the way. It miraculously did to me what every other thing I clean up does....makes itself a mess again. It boggles my mind how I brought this shit down in to the basement after hearing many complaints about it and somehow it walked up two flights of stairs just to piss me off again. I would rather not continue on the issue of the second floor as the other room does not belong to me and is none of business as to what it looks like even though the door is open half the time. I like to keep it shut and I do every time I see it.

The third floor is my favorite place in the house for the simple reason that I get to decide how dirty or clean it becomes. My laundry is always overflowing and it seems that no matter how many times I wash clothes and how I will wear the same shirt 6 times before it gets cleaned the basket seems to fill itself in a single day. My draws are about as messy as they could be. Nothing in my dresser has a "place." When I put away clean clothes they pretty much go where there is space. The only exception to this is socks, underwear and shirts which are hung up, they are always in the same spot. The closet floor is covered in a sea of shoes, many of which I have only worn one or to times but because of some reason or another I refuse to get rid of them. The top of the closet is filled with various board games and clothes that I’ve tried on on an ugly day and instead of folding them or putting them back on a hanger I just tossed up. For me an ugly day is one in which I try on numerous outfits in an attempt to find one that doesn't make me look ugly. I realize that I’m not actually ugly I just for some reason am extra unsatisfied with the quality of my clothes and the way they fit me. The toilet in my bedroom gets religiously disinfected on a weekly basis. I loath dirty toilets and it disgusts me that I live in a house with a guest bathroom that’s only been cleaned a total of three times. The guinea pigs are forever kicking crap out of their cage and on to the floor of my bedroom. Because of this our some-what broken vac gets to live on the third floor even more cluttering up my personal space. It would also be nice if I didn't have to clean their cage so fucking often!! It serves me right for having them! They are like my children and no matter how much I neglect them they will always give me love.

The basement of my house causes me the least stress because I hardly ever go down thee unless it is one of my many laundry excursions, but then it is in and out without getting a chance to look around and see how shitty it is. Alas I have picked this up even though I wanted to avoid it. The whole right side of the floor is cover in crap which my boyfriend and I have neglected to do anything with since the day we moved in. Minus the one day when we worked on it for a few hours. This resulted in just about nothing but a cluttered living room for a month and the single removal of an old computer desk. The right side consists of the pile of tools and the laundry room. The tools have buckets to go in to but are not organized by any definition of the word. I can find what I’m looking for most of the time because I use the same four tools every time and I always throw them in the same place. The laundry room makes me sad. The floor is covered in leaves and various other organic and inorganic shrapnel, which gets wet every time it rains. Perhaps the worst thing is that I fell like the ceiling is caving in on me more and more as the see this room.

The general complaints that I have for the house as a whole are that there is more clutter here then I am comfortable with and I can never fucking get the temperature just right!

The outside of my house is in progress and will most likely become my favorite place to hang out once the backyard is complete. I really have no complaints about this other then the fact that it took us so fucking long to start.

I promise it is not as bad as I make it out to be its just that all of this has been building up for a while now. So this is the end of my rant. I guess now that I have named everything that I hate I can now work on what I am going to do about all of this shit. Hooray for me!! I now can fix it all.

"you can't blame me says the media man."

So I bought some new clothes yesterday. I like them. I feel pretty when I wear them. I feel like I am a better looking person because I wear these clothes. I'm not really. I shouldn't be like this. I try to stay clear of T.V. where I can be easily swayed from one direction to another as far as how I should look. Still the news paper, the movies, magazines, and even the radio are all getting to me. I see those perfect models wearing great perfectly designed outfits decorating the walls of the stores that I go in to. I some how am lead to believe that I am a better person when I wear nice clothes. How great would it be to have money to burn like the stars whose picture are draped across everything from magazine covers to advertisements for items such as designer jeans or even chap stick. It is the age of fashion and I am a sexy woman in her early twenties. The only thing that I can think of that would make it better is if I was a top Hollywood actress or a Pop superstar. I wouldn’t even mind being a famous-for-nothing-but-daddy’s-money heiress to a billion dollar Hotel Company. It would suck being chased by cameras or having a sex life open to they public but hey, I would be rich and I everyone would want to be my friend because of this. Oh how I long to be able to spend shit loads of money on jeans that are perfectly made. Brand new denim freshly dyed and in perfect shape yet they have those places on them around the knee and hips that have air brushed on perfect creases and wear lines. I really hate those. Or better yet I could spend my money one the ones that look like they have had a few decades worth of wear. I prefer these by far. In fact I own a pair or two. I don't have the really-expensive-I-need-something-to-blow-my-money-on-jeans. I have more like I-want-to-look-like-I-spent-a-shit-load-of-money-but-I-am-really-poor pair of jeans. I hate my self for that. I hate that I feel better wearing nice clothes. I thought that I was better and stronger then this. What has the media done to me? It seems to catch me even though I do all I can to avoid it, without completely cutting myself off from human contact that is. My greatest fear is becoming true and I didn't even make it through college yet. I didn't plan on getting remotely materialistic until I at least had a high paying job at a fortune 500 company. I mean seriously, I am a free spirited liberal child of former hippies. I’m really just supposed to be satisfied shopping at thrift stores. What is even funnier is that the clothes that I bought are reminiscent of clothes from the grunge period mixed in with a little bit of hippie. What I mean to say is that they aren't your traditional "nice" clothes. Don't get me wrong... They are most defiantly stylish and have an obvious modern flare but they look almost dirty. So I guess these clothes do go along with my former thrift store shopping style. I guess I do like the style of clothes that have been (or look like they have been) wore previously.

I’m trying to think about the bright side of this. I think maybe the styles of clothes that are out on the market are becoming more similar to the ones that I have worn in recent years. Even if I am brainwashed in to thinking that I need these clothes to be beautiful I do like them and I do fell nice in them. So I do the clothing company a favor by buying their way overly priced shredded jeans and they in turn help me feel better about myself. Everyone in this situation wins. However, the designer jean company wins more because they get a lot of my money.

So why have I become like this? Why have I been led to believe that I am unattractive unless I have tons of cleavage in shirt which probably has about ten cents worth of fabric on it? How come I need jeans that show my panties when I bend over... or better yet, show my panties while standing? Why in this society I’m not of any value without money and sex appeal? The truth is I like being sexy. I like looking the part of a Hollywood superstar. I’m really disappointed in myself. I thought that I was above all of this.

phases

I am fairly sure that everyone during the course of their life goes through different phases. If this is not the way people live their life then maybe I am weirder then I thought I was to begin with. Some of my phases last longer then others. A good example being that for a good 5 months I was very much in to the rave scene. Going to parties and getting fucked up was a weekly occurrence. I can't remember when the last time I went to a club was. However, I did go down to Miami for a huge rave a few weeks ago. . .more on that later. In contrast, I've had phases, like bogging for example, that I have been so excited about but I can only get my mind to focus on then for about a month. I've also had a couple of phases that have lasted years and very few that have withstood the test of time and I have enjoyed then thoroughly my entire lifetime. It boggles my mind as to why some of my phases stick with me while others change with the seasons. With my adderall I can stay focused on simple tasks for a period of time, like I wrote my rules for the ganja in one sitting (the most I have ever written in a one sitting.. by the way.) This is comforting to me when I need to get a project done for school but scary when it come the time change gears.

It reminds me of the movie Adaptation, where Chris cooper's character tells us how he was so completely in love with the ocean, fish ECT. One day he just decides that he hates fish. "Fuck fish" he says and he never steps one foot in the ocean again. The current time in the movie he is so entranced by orchids. Because of this he risks everything just to be able to see many different kinds of orchids. I am more similar to Meryl Streep's character in the movie in the way that I want to know what it is like to be completely consumed with something for a long time. Like I said before I can stay focused on one thing for a little while but I am not as intensely focused as I would like to be and it is never quite as long as I want. What I’m looking for is the kind of consumption that takes away everything else in my world. What I mean is that I want to focus on one thing so much that nothing else matters. Of course regular daily life will still exist; you know my family, work, money, school…things to that extent. How good it would feel to have something to take up my time that I thoroughly enjoyed.

So the question is how do I get myself to stay on one thing for a long time? I have things in my life that I completely love to death, things that could possibly make me happy if I just did them forever. How am I supposed to find something that could hold that attention of my ADHD brain for longer then a month? You see, I like to do many things and that is just the problem. I switch so frequently that I never really excel at anything. I want instant gratification for what I’m doing. I want to learn how to be Eric Clapton on the guitar over night. I want to be a world famous sculpture in a matter of minutes. I think I just haven’t grown up yet.