Making lemonadePosted: September 30, 2011
For the last few months, and let’s face it, the majority of my life, my room has been a complete mess. I am one of those proud owners of a floordrobe, who drops something on the ground and thinks, “Oh, I’ll pick that up later.”
My room is a separate storage area for plates, water glasses, books, envelopes, pieces of paper with lists on them, packets of now soft chewing gum (so disgusting) and bobby pins. It has always been like this. Ever since I was young, I can remember cleaning my room was one of those jobs that took the whole of Sunday afternoon. This may or may not have been caused by my severe lack of enthusiasm, and the continual discovery of a book that I didn’t even necessarily like, but was grateful for any sort of distraction, regardless of the fact that I found it under a shirt that really did need a wash but never really made it to the washing machine, or the washing basket.
So yeah, I hate cleaning and I’m really lazy.
Over the last little while I’ve really come to understand what the difference between being lazy and apathetic is. And not the nice easy way like reading a fairly comprehensive book on the subject or watching an in depth documentary or something interesting. But by feeling that numb, oppressive feeling where you can’t bring yourself to do anything worthwhile and so you resign yourself to hitting refresh on Facebook for a few hours a night. Yep, I know how to have fun. Every now and then I’ll have these bursts of inspiration, ie. starting an etsy store, but soon after I’ll go back to watching episode after episode of House and feeling lame*. The thought of cleaning my room often drifts through my mind as a practical way of refreshing myself, but of course, this usually ends with me standing up, looking at a stray sock lying on the ground for a few minutes and then sitting down at my computer again.
Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.
Jonathan Safran Foer
is astoundingly relevant to my predicament. I am surrounded by images that used to inspire me, music that I used to frequently rant about, and books that used to give me butterflies of excitement, but I feel incapable of doing anything. My old self, the one who is crazy about design and wants to use it to make a change in the world, seems so distant now and unattainable.
Well, this is rather depressing isn’t it? The good news, or bad news depending on how you interpret it, is that we got a letter from our Real Estate agent telling us that we have a rental inspection today. Resulting in me spending yesterday afternoon cleaning my room. The effects of which are already beginning to take hold on my current melancholic** state. Well that and dropping the subject I hate the most this semester. I feel better. A bit more excited. A bit more in love with design. A bit more alive.
I think I’m going to go home and draw something.
*Not that House is lame. House is fantastic.
**Melancholy is seriously one of the best words in the world. Yes, I am a four on the enneagram.