As I mentioned last night, I cleaned my study. While doing so, I excavated several rough pieces I wrote in the past. This was before my college education in creative writing. I collected the pieces in a binder and I’ll read through them later, salvaging what I can for future stories.
I tried to finish cleaning, though there is still so much to sift through before I can announce that I finished. You heard here first, folks. I might be going through my books and putting together a good old fashion book sale on Amazon. What I know won’t sell, I’ll give to my niece to for her garage sale (she’s currently trying to raise money for new shoes—expensive, over the top shoes for her cheerleader outfit, so it’s not that she needs them).
As for NaNoWriMo, well, surprise surprise, I stopped doing it after the first night. Oh well. There’s still a lot of the month left.
Oops. I forgot to NaNoWriMo today. Instead, I spent most of the day (and taking a break from) cleaning my study and organizing my bookshelves. Ladies and gentlemen, I’m a hoarder. And it’s only a matter of time before you read about me. I managed to throw away several back issues of magazines and will attempt to throw away a few more after I shift through them and rip out any recipes I’d like to try.
I chatted with a friend (as in the ex-girlfriend type) and we talked for a good hour. So much to vent and so much to learn. Some secrets were shared, but I’ll not share them here because they’re too private. Advice was given, though I’m uncertain if I’ll listen to it. In the end, I noted that I’m not seeing any solutions to my problems. I’m pining for a girl who doesn’t love me (and I question the validity of her affection in the past), while having these feelings for another girl and flirting with another one. It just makes me long for better days when I felt a little more certain about my future. It’s cliché to say it, but my room has become a metaphor of my life. The more I try to clean it, the more stuff I uncover and the more of a mess I make. And now I’m wondering about other things because of all the things I’ve learned.
I uncovered several short stories, a novella, a handful of poems, and several scraps of unfinished tales or ideas that I jotted down. I threw away several repeat copies (done for creative writing courses), keeping only one of each (the ones with the better notes in the margins from peers). I found a few items from Jeanna, things she drew for me back when we were young and in love. I kept those, too. Because they meant something to me then, and continue to.
Break time’s over. I’ll write more interesting things later.