The Great Cleanup

You know the funny about cleaning up your own space?

There’s just so much shit that you don’t know where to start. What started off as just a “ha ha.. you know what would be a great way to spend this weekend” idea has just turned into “what the fuck were you thinking” situation.

I know organizing stuff has never, and I believe never will, be my strongest point. But honestly that’s not the point. Simply put, my room looks like it has somehow imploded into itself. Stuff I never knew have resurfaced. The amount of junk has reached dangerous levels. At this point in time, I don’t know if i should call the police or the environmental agency.

As I sit here drenched in my own sweat, I am wondering if I have bitten off more than i can, well.. chew. I feel like checking into a hotel room right now. Yep. it’s that bad.

More or it later. I have to fight the good fight. Wish me luck.

Gay. Damn gay.

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Why?

Sometimes it's easier to type the words that will hopefully, somehow ignite change because it is getting increasingly harder to sit back and watch as the whole world goes to shit. - Pointless
March 2008
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