I promised I’d post once a day, so here I am. Posting. I can’t promise, however, that my posts will always be interesting or that I will even remember to write something. Anyone who knows me knows my memory skills are lacking. Yet who knows? Maybe word press will change me.
I’m writing this at 1703hrs, and I won’t lie to you. I’m still hungover. Yup, this girl killed a ridiculous amount of brain cells last night with a group of friends, and she is still paying the price for it right now. I’m also struggling with my focus disease. Right now it’s telling me I have two hours to get my ass off this bed – despite how damn comfy it is – and start making an attempt to organize my life. And by life I mean room – as in case you haven’t already figured out, I still live with my parents.
You see, I have a very unusual and messy sort of personality. I don’t mean messy as in I enjoy how all my belongings and entire life somehow explodes in heaps of randomness everywhere. I really, really don’t ever intend them to be like that. But my mind seems to be running on overdrive pretty much every second, and I seem to have a wire missing that normal people have which allows for a normal clutter free environment.
I really do need to move out.
I started to sell hand painted products on the most amazing site ever (cause I’m not biased at all *cough* *cough*), etsy at (enter self promotion) http://www.esty.com/shop/junkdrawdesigns. In all seriousness, etsy really is an amazing site because it allows people like me, who have dreams, to do something we might never have had the opportunity to do in a previous time period. But all this new found dream-making is seriously making my room all the more insane than normal. Paint bottles are everywhere. Plastic containers are everywhere. Pages and pages of paper with drawings and sketches litter the floor because (you guessed it), I suck at keeping these items in a specific spot. Even worse, I have acquired a small army of mailing supplies and pretty packaging details. To be fair (and make myself feel slightly better), I do have a limited amount of space so it isn’t an easy task. You add to that the A.D.D. (which I will not allow to be an excuse, it just ups the challenge), and my habit of moving from one project to another every 30 minutes – it all gets mushed up into a giant slow forming snowball. Then it smacks me right in the face.
So as I wrap up this post, I now have 1 1/2 hours to get my ass of this bed.